THE 
NECESSARY 


CHARLES 

RANN 
KENNEDY 


THE 
NECESSARY  EVIL 


A    ONE-ACT    STAGE    PLAY    FOR    FOUR 
PERSONS:  TO  BE  PLAYED  IN  THE  LIGHT 

BY 
CHARLES  RANN  KENNEDY 


AUTHOR  OF 
'THE  SERVANT  IN  THE  HOUSE' 


God  made  man  upright;  but  they 

ha-vt  sought  out  many  inventions 

— Ecclesiastes  vii  29 


HARPER  &  BROTHERS  PUBLISHERS 
NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 
M  C  M  X  I  II 


ALL  STAGE,  RECITATION,  PUBLICATION,  TRANSLATION 
AND  OTHER  RIGHTS  RESERVED.  APPLICATION 
SHOULD  BE  MADE  TO  MESSRS.  HARPER  &  BROTHERS 


PRINTED   IN   THE    UNITED    STATES   OP   AMERICA 

• ".          PU«LISHC»  FrafcuiftY.  tats 


TO 

N.  A. 

BECAUSE  OF  YOUR  I  N  N  OC  EN  C  E— YO  U  R  WHITE 
SOUL.  AND  THEN  ALSO.  YOU  ARE  MY  CHILD. 
NOT  ONLY  HIS:  NOT  ONLY  YOUR  MOTHER'S;  BUT 
MINE:  EVERYBODY'S:  THE  WORLD'S.  YES.  YOU 
SHALL  BE  THAT  HENCEFORWARD,  DOWN 
THE  DAYS. 

'AND  THAT  IS  WHY  YOU  HAVE  HAD  TO  HEAR 
THIS  TERRIBLE  THING." 


259891 


THE 
NECESSARY    EVIL 


Andante,  largo  e  mesto 


BRAHMS:  Intermezzo:  Op.  118,  No.  6 


THE    SCENE 

THE  SITTING-ROOM  IN  JOHN  HERON'S  HOUSE.      Al- 

most  the  first  thing  to  catch  the  eye  is  the  portrait 
of  a  Woman.  It  is  not  merely  the  size  of  the  pic 
ture,  not  even  the  quality  of  the  painting  that  at 
tracts  attention;  but  something  in  the  woman  her 
self.  Perhaps  it  is  wistfulness,  pathos;  perhaps 
a  deep,  calm  understanding;  perhaps  beauty.  She 
dominates  this  room  like  a  presence,  a  spirit,  the 
mother  of  all  the  living  things  it  holds. 

Of  these  living  things,  there  are  books,  music, 
inexpensive  but  good  engravings,  water-colours,  all 
of  them  there  apparently  for  use  and  enjoyment,  not 
show.  Signs  of  refinement  and  limited  income,  for 
those  who  can  read  the  hieroglyphics  of  a  room. 

Man  is  about:  pipes,  ash-trays,  a  wholesome 
smell  of  tobacco:  perhaps  also  a  little  disorder. 
Something  feminine,  too.  Flowers,  little  nicknacks, 


:  N.EC£SSARY    EVIL 


needle-work:  things  loved,  looked  after.  A  straight- 
ening-out  of  chairs  and  papers  from  the  masculine 
eccentric.  A  general  air  of  the  Dionysiac  rampag- 
ings  of  man  slightly  limited  by  some  daughter  of 
Apollo. 

On  the  right  of  the  Audience  is  the  Fireplace. 
A  Door  leading  into  the  hallway  is  at  the  back.  On 
the  left  is  a  window  looking  out  upon  the  street.  It 
is  clearly  a  streety  sort  of  street  with  lamp-posts, 
palings,  and  an  "other  side"  of  ordinary-looking 
houses. 

There  is  a  settee,  left,  toward  the  front:  a  piano  on 
the  same  side  at  the  back,  near  the  window:  a  writ 
ing-desk  above  the  fireplace;  and  in  the  centre  of  the 
room,  a  tea-table  set  for  four,  the  middle  of  which 
is  occupied  by  a  big  Birthday  Cake  crowned  with 
candles.  And  other  things. 


THE    LIGHT 

The  Play  commences  at  sunset,  the  light  of  which 
comes  streaming  in  through  the  window.  Then  an 
interval  of  gradual  darkening  into  dusk.  Then  the 
street  lamp  outside  the  window  is  lighted.  After- 

[8] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

wards  the  gas  is  turned  on  in  the  room.  Later,  it  is 
lowered,  and  one  birthday  candle  is  lighted.  Tow 
ards  the  end  of  the  play,  the  gas  is  turned  on  again. 


THE    MUSIC 

The  Overture  for  this  play  should  be  by  Brahms: 
preferably,  the  Intermezzo,  Op.  116,  No.  6:  played, 
of  course,  as  written,  on  the  piano.  No  orchestra. 
The  Intermezzo,  Op.  118,  No.  6  is  employed  in  the 
action  of  the  play  itself. 


PERSONS  OF  THE  PLAY 

JOHN  HERON 

NELLIE:  his  daughter 

FRANK:  his  son 

A  WOMAN 


THE  PLACE 

THE  SITTING  ROOM 
AT  JOHN   HERON'S 


THE  TIME 

NINETEEN    HUNDRED 
AND    TWELVE    YEARS 

AFTER     THE      BlRTH     OF 

OUR  LORD  JESUS  CHRIST 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 


On  the  rise  of  the  curtain,  NELLIE  and  JOHN  HERON 
are  discovered,  the  girl  standing  looking  out  of  the  open 
window,  and  her  father  busy,  quill  in  hand,  over  some 
musical  manuscript  at  the  writing-table.  Pie  is  a  man 
of  about  fortyfive,  Well-preserved,  hale,  hearty,  kindly, 
grey  at  the  temples,  and  rather  timidly  gentle  in  his 
general  movements  and  ways  of  speech:  something  of  a 
wild  bull,  though,  when  roused.  The  girl  might  be 
almost  any  age  from  seventeen  up  to  twenty  five;  but  is 
actually  twentyone,  this  being  indeed  her  birthday,  as 
witness  the  cake  and  candles  on  the  tea-table.  As  she 
stands  there  at  the  window,  the  last  flush  of  the  setting 
sun  about  her  face  and  hair,  she  is  very  beautiful: 
childlike,  slim,  fragile,  she  looks  like  a  little  pale  lily, 
all  exquisiteness  and  pathos. 

JOHN  HERON,  absorbed  in  his  manuscript,  which  he 
carries  with  him,  goes  to  the  fireplace  and  bending  down 
lights  his  pipe  with  a  paper  spill. 

in] 


.p 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

NELLIE.  Oh,  it  is  all  so  beautiful,  so  very  beautiful. 
Why  did  He  make  everything  so  beautiful? 
And  good! 

HERON.  Yes,  I  think  that  abrupt  modulation  to  the 
dominant  is  rather  .  .  . 

Hm!     Coming  in  just  there,  too. 

NELLIE.  Why,  whatever  are  you  talking  about, 
Daddy?  I'm  not  thinking  about  your  dear 
old  music.  I'm  thinking  about  something 
else.  Something  quite  as  beautiful  though. 
Well  .  .  .  almost. 

JOHN  HERON  pauses  in  the  lighting  of 
his  pipe,  and  turns  with  a  whimsical 
expression  on  his  face. 

HERON.   Why,  whatever  can  that  be,  Sweetheart? 

NELLIE.  I'm  thinking  how  beautiful  it  is  to  be  alive. 
To  be  a  part  of  it  all.  To  be  a  part  of  alt 
this,  out  here.  Oh,  how  good  everything  is! 

He  crosses  over  to  her,  dropping  the 
manuscript    on    the    piano    as    he 
passes.     lie  caresses  her  tenderly. 
[12] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 
HERON.   My  child!     My  little,  precious  child! 

NELLIE.  Daddy,  dear! 

She  unlinks  herself.  Caresses  make 
her  shy. 

They  stand  for  a  moment  or  two  to 
gether,  looking  thoughtfully  out  of 
the  window.  They  are  illumined 
by  the  sunlight. 

Only  to  think  of  it!  Scarcely  a  moment 
ago — why,  it  only  seems  like  yesterday— 
and  here  I  was,  an  invalid,  a  puny  broken 
little  wretch  all  skin  and  bones:  nothing 
but  a  bag  of  misery  with  milk  and  eggs  and 
codliver  oil  inside  it.  And  then,  your  poor 
patient  old  face! — the  care,  the  sorrow,  the 
perpetual  fear  lest  at  any  moment .  .  . 
Oh,  I  know  what  went  on. in  your  heart, 
Daddy  dear;  though  I  never  let  on.  And 
now,  to  think  of  it!  I'm  strong,  I'm  well 
again.  I'm  downstairs!  I'm  grown  up. 
I'm  not  even  the  same  person.  Something 
magical  has  happened  this  very  day.  I'm 
a  woman. 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

HERON.  That's  a  big  difference  to  come  about  all  in 
one  day. 

NELLIE  (mysteriously).  Oh,  there's  a  lot  of  magic 
can  come  about  all  in  one  day,  I  can  tell 
you.  Only  you  have  to  keep  your  eyes  wide 
open,  if  you  want  to  see  it. 

HERON.  You!  Why,  you're  only  a  baby.  Not  a 
particle  of  difference  in  you  that  I  can  see, 
since  the  day  I  wrote  my  first  published 
song — you  know,  the  cradle  song.  My 
only  published  song,  to  be  precise. 

NELLIE.  Well  you  know,  I'm  getting  rather  a  big 
baby,  Father.  Oh,  I'm  in  earnest.  Things 
have  been  happening  to  me —  Yes  they 
have:  they  have  been  happening  a  long 
time,  only  you  didn't  know  of  it. 

HERON.  There's  nothing  you  can  tell  me  about  your 
self,  Miss,  that  I  don't  know.  Oh,  I  can 
read  you:  I  can  read  you  like  a  book. 

NELLIE.  Daddy,  you  humbug!  You  don't  even 
know  what's  happened  to  me  today. 

(HI 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

HERON.  Don't  I,  indeed!  I'd  like  to  know  the 
thing  that's  happened  to  you  today,  that 
I  don't  .  .  . 

(With  quick  alarm.)     You're  in  love  with 
somebody. 

NELLIE  (teasing).  Yes:  I'm  in  love  with  my  dear 
old  Daddy. 

HERON.  If  it's  that  doctor  fellow,  I'll  wring  his 
impertinent  .  .  . 

NELLIE.  Nonsense!  As  if  anyone  could  fall  in  love 
with  a  bottle  of  codliver  oil. 

HERON.  Then  it's  that  damned  little  whipper- 
snap  of  a  lawyer.  The  young  .  .  .!  So 
that's  why  he  wanted  to  take  music  les 
sons! 

NELLIE.  Wrong  again.  It's  not  that,  either.  And 
Alfred  isn't  a  wThippersnap.  He's  a  very 
nice  boy;  and  I'm  going  to  marry  him  some 
day — when  he  proposes  to  me. 

HERON.  Oh,  you're  perfectly  disgraceful!     Shame- 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

less,  I  call  it!     Flirt  with  every  single  man 
you  .  .  . 

(Lamely.)     What  has  happened  to  you 
today  ? 

NELLIE.  I  thought  you  knew. 

HERON     (brazenly).  Well,  so  I  do;   but  I  won't  say. 
NELLIE.  Very  well  then.     I  needn't  tell  you. 
HERON    (coaxing).  My  child!  .  .  . 

But  he  is  not  to  be  let  of  so  easily. 
NELLIE.  Well,  say  I've  won. 
HERON.   No,  I'm  damned  if  I  will. 

NELLIE.  Naughty,  naughty!     But  I  really  have  won, 
you  know. 

HERON    (sulky).  Well,  I  won't  say  it. 

NELLIE.  You  will,  if  you  want  to  know.    And  you  do. 
You're  curious.     You  can't  get  out  of  that. 
[16! 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 
HERON.   I  won't  say  it. 

NELLIE.  Won't  say  what? 

HERON    (not  to  be  caught).  What  you  want  me  to  say. 

NELLIE  (trying  other  tactics) .  Oh  do! 

HERON.  I  won't. 

NELLIE.  Yes. 

HERON.  No. 

NELLIE.  You  don't  love  me. 

HERON.  Who  says  I  don't? 

NELLIE.  Daddy,  darling! 

HERON.  Very  well  then.     All  right. 

NELLIE.  All  right  what?    Say  it. 

His  manhood  oozes  out  of  him.     He 
grunts  weakly; 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 
HERON.  You've  won. 

NELLIE.  You  good  obedient  angel!  Now  then, 
listen!  Today,  beginning  early  this  morn 
ing — before  the  milkman — before  the  post 
man — before  you  ever  thought  of  getting 
up — there  happened  .  .  . 

Oh,  but  first  of  all,  apologise  for  what  you 
said  about  Alfred. 


HERON.  No,  I'll  be  ... 

But  he  really  cannot  go  back  over  the 
same  ground  again:  so; 

Very  well,  I  apologize  for  what  I  said  about 
-Alfred. 

There  is  a  suspicious  emphasis  on  the 
name. 

NELLIE.  "Dear  Alfred"  Father  darling. 

HERON  (disgusted).  Oh,  dear  Alfred !  Now  for  good 
ness  sake,  quicken  up  your  tempo,  and  tell 
me  your  secret. 

[18] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

NELLIE  (coming  in  prompt  on  the  beat).  I  will!  .  »  . 
Look  over  there. 

HERON.  Where? 

NELLIE.  There.    On  the  tea-table. 

It's  been  there  for  one  whole  mortal  hour; 
and  you've  never  noticed  it. 

HERON.  Well,  what  is  there  to  look  at?  I  can  only 
see  a  cake  and  a  lot  of  ridiculous  candles. 
What  about  it? 

NELLIE.  Yes,  this  comes  of  choosing  a  geni-ous  for  a 
father.  One  whole  hour,  and  you've  never 
even  looked  at  it.  There's  music  for  you! 
You  know,  you  don't  deserve  to  have  a 
daughter's  birthday. 

HERON    (at  sea).  Birthday  .  .  . 

NELLIE.  I  tell  you,  you  begin  to  feel  that  sort  of 
neglect  when  you're  twentyone. 

HERON.  When  you're  what? 

NELLIE.  Twentyone. 

[19] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 
HERON.   Who's  twentyone? 

NELLIE.  I  am.  I've  been  it  all  day  long.  That's 
the  cake. 

He  stands  dumbfounded,   looking  at 
it,  as  if  it  were  a  miracle. 

HERON.  Well,  I  never!    Cake  .  .  .  Twentyone  .  .  . 

You! 

NELLIE.  Urn!    Yes  sir.     Reely. 

HERON.  Oh,  my  precious,  how  selfish  of  me.  And  I 
never  knew:  never  even  dreamed  of  getting 
you  a  ... 

Here,  stop  a  moment  though  .  .  . 

He  begins  fumbling  importantly  at  his 
pocket-book. 

NELLIE.  No,  no,  Daddy:  I  don't  want  it,  really  I 
don't;  and  you  can't  afford  it. 

HERON.  Nonsense,  nonsense.  This  is  an  extra. 
Why,  the  royalties  on  my  first  published  .  .  . 


THE   NECESSARY   EVIL 

Look!  I  am  quite  rich.  After  all,  roy 
alties  are  royalties,  aren't  they?  What 
do  you  think  of  that  now  ?  Five — 
whole  .  .  . 

NELLIE.  It's  no  use  your  talking,  because  we  dis 
cussed  every  word  of  this  when  the  cheque 
arrived  this  morning.  Besides  there  is  only 
just  enough  for  the  two  volumes  of  Brahms; 
and  we  simply  must  have  that  Peters'  edi 
tion,  you  know  that. 

HERON     (quizzically).    We?  .  .  . 

NELLIE    (valiantly).  Yes,  we.     You's  we,  isn't  it? 

HERON    (tenderly).  Oh,  my  child!  .  .  . 

Look  here,  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do. 
One  volume  of  Brahms — the  one  with  the 
Intermezzos — and  the  rest  of  it  for  you. 
And  we'll  cry  quits. 

NELLIE.  No!    No!    I  want  the  Sonatas. 

HERON.  Well,  well,  the  Sonatas  then;  and  devil  take 
the  Intermezzos. 

[21] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

NELLIE.  But  I  don't  want  him  to:  I'm  greedy:  I 
want  both  of  them  myself.  Oh,  you  silly 
old  dear,  don't  you  see,  birthday  presents 
don't  really  matter.  They're  nothing.  I 
have  my  birthday  present.  God  has  given 
me  my  birthday  present — life  and  health 
again,  and  this  new  glorious  joy  in  men 
and  women  and  all  the  wonderful  touching 
loveliness  of  the  world. 

HERON.  Thank  God  for  it.     Yes,  I  see  that. 

NELLIE.  And  you'll  do  as  your  little  daughter  wants  ? 
Both  volumes,  remember. 

HERON.  After  all,  you  really  are  very  fond  of  the 
Sonatas  .  .  . 

* 
NELLIE.  Oh,    it    '11    be    a    perfectly    lovely    pres- 

pres  ! 

HERON.   For  you  or  for  me? 
NELLIE.  For  both  of  us. 
HERON.  Oh,  but  you  make  me  feel  ashamed. 

[22] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

NELLIE.  It  is  I,  who  feel  ashamed.  I  am  not  worthy. 
Oh,  I  ought  to  have  known  it  all,  even  when 
I  was  lying  up  there.  ^But  you  see,  I  wasn't 
twentyone  then^  I  didn't  know  how  to 
know.  Oh,  this  dreadful  difficult  task  of 
growing  up:  it  really  is  a  job,  isn't  it?  But 
I'm  learning,  yes  I  am;  and  you  see,  I'll 
grow  to  be  a  credit  to  you  yet.  Up  there, 
it  was  so  long,  so — so  many  years;  and  then 
the  codliver  oil  and  the  plaster  of  Paris 
and  all  that  ...  Oh !  I  thought  I  should 
never  see  anything  again  but  blue  skies  and 
clouds  and  endless  housetops.  If  there  had 
only  been  one  dear  little  window — some 
thing  with  the  darling  head  of  a  human 
being  peeping  through  ...  But  no!  A 
tiny  bit  of  gutter  on  the  opposite  roof,  where 
the  sparrows  lived  until  the  storm  came  and 
washed  them  out —  That  was  the  most 
I  ever  had. 

HERON.  Was  that  all:  all  you  ever  had? 

NELLIE.  No  .  .  .  Oh,  what  a  wretch  I  am! — I  had 
more  than  that:  I  had  you:  I  had  my  dear 
old  Daddy,  patient,  watching,  always  by 

[23] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVl  L 

my  bedside,  taking  care  of  me,  loving  me. 
Even  when  you  were  down  here  with  your 
pupils,  you  used  to  make  them  practise  all 
the  things  I  loved  best:  /  noticed  it:  I  can 
see  through  you,  can't  I,  dear?  .  .  .  And 
then,  when  you  used  to  climb  back  again 
to  me,  the  lovely  talks  we  had !  Shall  I  ever 
forget  them?  How  I  used  to  wait  for  them, 
counting  off  the  pupils  one  by  one  by  the 
clock  there.  After  all,  it  was  worth  being 
ill,  for  the  talks  we  had.  Perhaps,  if  I  had 
been  a  little  well  daughter,  I  should  never 
have  heard  all  those  great  big  wonderful 
things  you  taught  me.  About  God.  About 
life.  About  my  own  soul. 

HERON.  The  teaching  wasn't  all  on  my  side,  my 
dear,  believe  me.  You  taught  me  loads  of 
things,  you  never  dreamed  of.  I  don't 
think  I've  missed  a  single  thing. 

NELLIE.  Daddy,  you're  laughing  at  me.  Why,  I 
said  nothing.  I  never  could  say  any 
thing.  I  was  always  just  a  little 
dumb  beast,  with  never  a  word  to  my 
mouth. 

[24] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

HERON.  You've  given  me  many.  You'll  be  hearing 
of  them  by-and-bye.  Everyone  of  them 
has  gone  smack  into  this — my  symphony. 
You'll  recognize  them,  if  nobody  else  does. 

NELLIE.  So  that's  what  you  were  up  to,  sir!  And  I 
mistook  it  for  sympathy.  And  all  the  time, 
there  you  were,  just  getting  material  out  of 
me  for  your  music. 

HERON.  If  you  like  to  put  it  so,  you  impertinent 
little  devil.  No:  I  watched  you  because  I 
loved  you;  and  then  because  I  loved  you, 
you  gave  me  ever  such  a  lot  of  yourself  for 
me  to  take  care  of;  and  I  locked  it  up  in  my 
heart,  until  it  grew  too  big  for  my  heart  to 
hold  any  longer,  and  now  it's  spilling  out 
and  away  for  all  the  world  to  wonder  at. 
That's  what  it  is,  having  a  child  like  you. 

Look!     So  far,  there  are  little  bits  of  you 
peeping  out  of  every  note. 

They  bend  over  the  manuscript. 

NELLIE.  Well,  isn't  that  clever  of  you!    To  say  all 
that,  so  beautifully  too,  just  in  this  way! .  .  . 
[25] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

Do  you  know,  I  think  it's  you  who  have 
made  me  well  again. 

HERON.   Indeed,  I'd  like  to  believe  so,  Sweetheart. 

NELLIE.  You're  so  alive  yourself,  that's  why.  And 
oh,  my  illness  hasn't  been  wasted,  after  all! 
It  was  all  turned  to  good  for  you:  good  for 
your  work,  I  mean. 

HERON.  Yes,  that's  a  nice  pleasant  thing  to  think 
about! 

NELLIE.  Daddy,  what  does  it  matter,  what  does  any 
thing  matter,  now  I'm  downstairs  again? 
Downstairs!  No  more  housetops;  but  the 
street,  the  real  live  street,  and  all  the  lovely 
people  passing  by.  Oh,  how  my  heart  goes 
out  to  them.  I  want  to  shout  to  them. 
I  don't  think  they  know  about  themselves. 
They  take  it  all  so  calmly.  Oh,  I  love 
them,  I  love  them!  How  I'd  like  to  hug 
them,  everyone  of  them,  to  my  heart  and 
say:  Isn't  it  beautiful?  Isn't  it  sweet  and 
beautiful  to  be  alive?  Look  at  them !  Look! 
Oh,  how  they  walk  and  look  about.  Like 
[26! 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

little  wild  things  in  a  wood.  Aren't  people 
just  too  darling  for  words?  This  one  for 
instance:  this  one  coming  our  way  now:  so 
unconscious:  look  at  her:  Father:  this  .  .  . 

Something  makes  her  break  off  sud 
denly.     Her  father  joins  her  at  the 

window. 

HERON.   Where?  .  .  .  Which  do  you  mean? 
NELLIE.  The  woman.     Look!     She  .  .  . 
HERON.  This  one  passing  now? 
NELLIE    (impulsively).  Oh,  you  poor  thing!  .  .  . 

She  draws  back  quickly  into  the  shad 
ows  of  the  curtain. 

Father,  she  heard  me. 
HERON.   Did  she?     I  don't  think  she  did. 

NELLIE.  But  the  window's  open.     Didn't  you  see 
how — how  strangely  she  looked  at  me? 

[27] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

HERON.   She  did  look  in;    but  I  think  the  room's 
getting  too  .  .  . 

See,  the  sun  has  set  already. 

NELLIE.  Oh,  those  eyes!    Those  dreadful  eyes!  .  .  . 
HERON.   Come  away,  my  dear.    Come  into  the  room. 
NELLIE.  And  straight  into  my  own,  as  if  ... 
HERON.  As  if  what? 
NELLIE.  Challenging  something. 

Deep   in  thought,  she  crosses  to  the 
middle  of  the  room. 

There  are  some  things  in  life,  I  don't  seem 
to  understand. 

HERON.   You  will  find  there  are  many  things  in  life 
like  that,,  my  child. 

NELLIE.  Yes,    but    some  .  .  .  That    look,    for    ex 
ample  ...  As  if  she  wanted  me—     Yes, 
me.     And  then  .  .  .  Out  again,  like  a  can- 
US  ] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

die-flame.     I  shall  never  even  see  her  any 
more.     That's  strange,  that's  pitiful,  too. 

HERON.  Oh,  you  are  your  mother's  daughter.  She 
was  just  like  that. 

NELLIE.  Was  she? 

She  turns  for  a  moment  towards  the 
portrait.     Then,   very  simply; 

Thank  you. 

HERON.  They  wanted  her  too,  all  the  time.  She  was 
— well  .  .  .  necessary  to  them.  I  always 
used  to  call  her  their  Necessary  Good.  Her 
whole  life  was  spent  that  way — being 
wanted,  and  giving  herself.  That's  the 
way  of  women,  good  and  bad —  Always 
giving  .  .  . 

In  the  end  it  killed  her,  as  noble  work  will 
sometimes  kill. 

NELLIE.  How? 

HERON.   God  laid  too  great  a  burden  of  pity  upon 
her  heart,  and  at  last  it  broke. 
[29] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 
NELLIE.  Dear  Mother! 

They  are  silent  for  a  space. 

I  wanted  it  to  be  a  joyous  blue  sky  of  a 
birthday;  but  now  it  just  seems  as  if  some 
grey  cloud  had  crept  right  across  it.  Isn't 
it  curious  sometimes  how  one  look — just 
two  eyes  looking  at  you  .  .  . 

I'm  sorry  too,  because  .  .  . 

HERON.  Why  are  you  sorry? 

NELLIE.  Because  I  had  something  else  to  tell  you.  I 
wanted  it  to  come — clear:  out  of  the  blue 
sky.  It's  a  secret. 

HERON.  What,  another? 

NELLIE.  Um:  it's  wonderful,  it's  beautiful!    Reely! 

HERON.  I  can  imagine  so.  They  are  your  only 
adjectives. 

NELLIE.  I've  been  keeping  it  for  you  all  day  long. 
That's  what  the  letter  meant  this  morning 
[30] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

at  breakfast.     The  letter  I  wouldn't  let  you 
see. 

HERON.   Something  nice,  eh? 

NELLIE.  It's  going  to  happen  almost  any  moment. 
It  was  due  at  the  railway  station  about  five 
minutes  ago;  and  it  hardly  takes  half  an 
hour  to  come  up  here. 

HERON.  What,  the  secret? 

NELLIE.  Yes,  he's  on  the  way  now. 

HERON.   He?     Oh,  it's  a  gentleman  secret,  is  it? 

NELLIE.  Um.  You'd  never  guess  who  he  is,  not  if 
you  tried  ever  so.  Somebody  you  don't 
expect. 

HERON.   Coming  here  tonight,  eh?     Soon?  .  .  . 
(Sharply.}    A  young 


NELLIE.  Young,  and  oh! — ever  so  handsome.    Some 
body  who  loves  me. 

HERON.  Who? 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 
NELLIE.  Your  son,  sir.     Brother  Frank. 

He  takes  this  more  gravely  than  she 
expected. 

HERON.  So  Frank's  coming  home,  is  he?  Well,  it's 
about  time. 

NELLIE.  Father,  aren't  you  glad  to  hear  it? 

HERON.  Yes,  I'm  glad,  right  enough.  He's  my  own 
boy,  all  said  and  done.  How  long  is  he 
intending  to  favour  us? 

NELLIE.  Well,  that's  the  pity  of  it.  He  only  has 
two  weeks'  holiday,  and  can't  spare  us  more 
than  a  couple  of  days.  But  one  of  them's 
my  birthday. 

HERON.  Hm.  Is  he  in  want  of  anything,  do  you 
think?  Any — money,  for  instance? 

NELLIE.  Father,  isn't  that  just  a  little  bit  unkind? 

HERON.  Well  you  see,  after  two  whole  years  of 
practical  neglect  .  .  . 

And  then,  there  are  other  things. 

132] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

NELLIE.  Oh,  Frank  isn't  as  bad  as  you  think.  He's 
young:  he's  irresponsible;  and  even  if  he 
does  fling  money  about —  Well,  haven't 
you  yourself  often  said  that  only  rich 
people  take  money  seriously? 

HERON.  Oh,  it  isn't  the  money  .  .  . 

Though   by-the-bye,  he  never  even  ac 
knowledged  that  last  cheque  I  sent  him. 

NELLIE.  Well,  he's  selfish,  he's  thoughtless,  I  know; 
but  we  are  all  of  us  that,  when  we're  young. 
You  should  see  the  beautiful  letter  he  wrote 
me. 

HERON.  Yes,  they  very  often  can.  Very  beautiful 
— letters. 

Oh,  these  lads  of  ours!     How  they  can 
wound  us  to  the  heart. 

NELLIE.  Remember  what  that  friend  of  his  told  us 
about  him — you  know,  the  man  who  called 
to  see  us:  the  man  who  brought  me  the 
orchid. 

HERON.  Yes,  I  remember  the  friend.     The  man  who 

[331 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

could  bring  you  an  orchid  must  be  a  bit  of  a 
leper. 

NELLIE.  Why,  Daddy,  whatever  do  you  mean? 

HERON.  Nothing,  my  child,  nothing.  Just  a  bit  of 
symbolism,  that's  all. 

NELLIE.  Well,  he  said  Frank  was  all  right.  Quite 
a  man  of  the  world — that's  what  he  said.  I 
always  like  to  think  of  him  like  that.  Out 
in  the  world,  the  great  big  world,  doing 
things. 

HERON.  I  don't  think  I  very  much  believe  in  what 
the  world  calls  right.  What  I  want  my 
boy  to  be  is  right,  inside.  Right,  God's 
way:  not  the  world's.  If  I  could  be  sure 
of  that  .  .  . 

NELLIE.  Well,  you  wait  till  you  see  the  letter.  You'll 
find  a  difference,  I  can  promise  you.  I 
must  confess,  I  felt  a  little  bit  doubtful 
myself,  when  I  wrote  and  begged  him  to 
come;  but  that  was  mean  of  me,  because 
you  see,  he's  coming. 
[34l 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

HERON.  Oh,  you  had  to  write  and  remind  him,  did 
you? 

NELLIE.  Why,  of  course.     I  couldn't  expect  him  to 
remember  my  birthday,  all  by  himself. 

HERON.  Well,  all  I  can  say  is,  if  he  didn't  .  .  . 

NELLIE.  Daddy,  Daddy!  .  .  . 

HERON.  Well,  well,  there,  I'll  say  no  more  about  it. 

NELLIE.  No:  I  think  you'd  better  not. 

HERON.  Oh,  we  men!     I'm  afraid  we  are  all  alike! 

NELLIE.  There  are  differences,  Daddy.     And  you  are 
one  of  them,  bless  you. 

And  so,  when  Frank  comes  .  .  .  when 
he  is  actually  here,  in  the  room  with  you  . . . 

HERON.  Oh,  I'll  behave  myself,  if  that's  what  you're 
driving  at. 

NELLIE.  Father,  if  anybody  heard  you,  they'd  think 
you  didn't  love  him  any  longer. 

[351 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

HERON  (hotly).  I  do  love  him.  That's  why  he 
irritates  me  so. 

NELLIE.  Remember,  you  haven't  seen  him  for  two 
years.  He  must  have  changed  a  deal  in 
that  time. 

HERON.  He's  such  an  argumentative  little  devil  .  .  . 
That's  what  always  gets  my  back  up. 

NELLIE.  All  you  have  to  do,  is  to  keep  off  the  one 
subject — music. 

HERON.  Oh,  I  know  he  has  nothing  but  contempt 
for  my  work. 

NELLIE.  My  dear,  he  is  only  a  boy.  You  are  a  grown 
man,  remember. 

HERON    (like  a  child).  Oh,  am  I?    Well  .  .  . 

Look  here,  Nellie,  I  do  love  the  lad:  you 
know  I  do;  but  I  don't  think  children  know 
sometimes,  what  pain  .  .  .  inside  here  .  .  . 
when  you're  a  father  .  .  . 

Why,   I've   had   that   little  chap   in   my 
arms,  niujit  after  night,  hundreds  of  times. 
[36] 


THE   NECESSARY   EVIL 

NELLIE    (creeping  up  to  him).  That's  my  Daddy! 

HERON  (brightly).  And  tomorrow  morning,  the  very 
first  thing,  I'll  go  out  with  a  big  butcher's 
knife,  and  see  what  sort  of  a  fatted  calf 
there  is  about  the  place. 

NELLIE.  Well,  you  had  better  be  ready  with  a  ring 
and  a  robe  and  a  pair  of  shoes  at  once; 
because  he'll  be  here  in  twenty  minutes. 
Less. 

Now,  what  I  thought  was  this.  We 
wouldn't  make  a  grand  party  of  it,  with  a 
lot  of  silly  people  about.  Frank's  getting 
his  dinner  on  the  train;  and  we're  only 
middle-day  folk — not  like  him:  so  I 
thought  .  .  .  Just  Birthday  Cake  and 
Tea,  like  when  we  were  kids —  See? 

And  then  we  could  all  sit  round  cosy 
together,  a  regular  family  affair,  just  the 
four  of  us  and  nobody  else. 

HERON.  Nellie,  this  is  genius! 

NELLIE.  Thank  you,  sir.  Just  our  four  selves, 
see? 

[37] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 
HERON.  I  get  your  point.     Just  our  ...  eh? 

He  pauses,  interrogatively. 
NELLIE    (with  intention).  Four  selves,  sir. 
HERON.  What  .  .  .  Alfred? 
NELLIE.  No:  try  again.     Just  us  four,  you  know. 

HERON.  The  table  is  set  for  four,  certainly.     You, 
me,  Frank  .  .  .     Who's  the  mystic  fourth  r 

NELLIE.  Oh,  you  can  guess,  if  you  try. 

He  shakes  his  head. 
Mother. 

HERON.  Now,  who  but  my  little  Nellie  could  ever 
have  dreamed  of  a  thing  like  that? 

NELLIE.  We  can  think  she's  sitting  there  all  the 

time,    looking    at    us,    loving    us.     Why 

shouldn't  people  be  set  for,  just  because 

they're  dead?     Dead's  alive,  isn't  it?    And 

[38] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

then  perhaps,  even  a  morsel  of  cake  there 
and  a  cup  of  tea,  just  as  if  .  .  . 

There's  something  sacramental  about  it, 
don't  you  think? 

He  presses  her  silently  to  his  hearty 

and  then  brings  her  over  to  the  settee, 

where  they  sit. 
Their  faces  can  still  be  seen,  but  more 

and  more  vaguely  in  the  advancing 

dusk. 

HERON.  Nellie,  for  a  person  with  a  naturally  loving 
heart,  I  must  say  you  know  just  how  to 
stab  where  it  will  hurt  the  most. 

NELLIE.  That  must  be  the  artist  in  me,  Daddy.  I 
got  that  bad  little  habit  from  you. 

HERON.  Well,  perhaps  you  did.  But  you  got  your 
pity — your  sacred  pity — from  Her. 

The  thought  makes  them  silent  a  little. 

NELLIE.  Why  did  she  have  to  die,  I  wonder,  just 
because  of  that? 

[39] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

HERON.  Things  hurt  her  so:  the  things  she  had  to 
know:  the  people  she  mixed  with,  had  to 
deal  with  ...  I  can't  begin  to  tell  you  the 
sort  of  people  she — was  a  sister  to. 

NELLIE.  Why,  what  sort  were  they? 
HERON.  Oh    mostly — women. 

NELLIE.  Women  .  .  . 

(Half  under    her   breath.)  What  was  it, 
started  it — in  her? 

HERON.  It  was  a  tragical  experience,  early  in  life, 
when  she  was  about  your  age.  Somebody 
who  had  been  a  friend  of  hers,  a  school 
fellow,  somebody  whom  she  might  have 
helped;  but  she  did  not  know.  Nobody 
ever  told  her.  She  had  been  brought  up — 
innocently.  Then  it  became  too  late. 
And  the  friend  .  .  .  Well,  the  poor  girl 
died.  Tragically.  Horribly. 
I  Her  whole  life  was  spent  for  them  after 
that. 

NELLIE.  For  them.     Whom? 

[40] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 
HERON.  Her  sisters. 

NELLIE.  I  think  I  understand.  I've  often  thought 
of  that,  too. 

HERON.  Have  you?    I  don't  think  you  have. 

NELLIE.  Father,  indeed  I  have;  and  it's  pitiful:  it 
wrings  my  heart.  The  poor — I  mean  the 
really  very  poor,  not  poor  like  us — do  have 
a  dreadful  time  of  it. 

HERON.  It's  not  the  poor,  I'm  speaking  of;  though 
God  knows,  that's  often  enough  a  part  of 
the  problem,  too. 

NELLIE.  Problem.     What  problem? 
HERON.  The  problem  of — our  sisters. 

NELLIE.  Daddy,  I  don't  know  what  you  mean.  I 
don't  really.  And  I'm  usually  so  quick  at 
getting  your  subtle  allusions. 

HERON.  Some  other  time,   dearest.     Not  tonight. 
Not  on  your  birthday. 
[41] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

NELLIE.  But  don't  you  see,  that's  just  why.  I'm 
twentyone.  I'm  a  woman.  Besides  .  .  . 
If  you  mean  .  .  . 

HERON.  Ifl  mean  what? 

NELLIE.  If  you  mean  that  perhaps  my  sisters  are  .  .  . 
wanting  me  ... 

HERON  (quickly).  No,  no:  not  that.  Not  you.  I 
was  only  trying  to  make  you  understand 
something  about  your  mother. 

NELLIE.  It  killed  her,  you  say  ... 

HERON.  Yes,  there's  the  trouble.  You  have  to  pay 
so  much,  if  you  take  up  that  kind  of  thing. 

NELLIE.  My  mother  .  .  .  The  pity  of  it  killed 
her  ... 

HERON.  That  and  the  work. 

NELLIE.  I  see.    There's  something  you  have  to  do. 

HERON.  Yes,  but  not  you,  my  child.     Not  you. 

[42] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

NELLIE.  But  why  not  I?     I'm  a  woman,  too.     Like 
others.     Like  Mother. 

HERON.  Oh,  but  you  are  speaking  in  ignorance:   in 
deep  utter  innocent  ignorance,  like  a  child. 

NELLIE.  Then  teach  me.     Give  me  light.     Let  me 
know. 

,  A 

HERON.  It  would  destroy  your  happiness. 

itijtffik* 

NELLIE.  How  can  it,  if  it's  the  truth  ?    Truth  can't 
destroy  happiness. 


HERON.  This  truth  can.     Your  happiness. 

t*j& 
NELLIE.  Then  perhaps  my  happiness  is  at  fault. 

HERON.  You  said  only  just  now:  How  beautiful  life  is! 
NELLIE.  Well,  isn't  it? 

HERON.  I  don't  know.  We  artists  like  to  dream  it 
is.  Little  children  play  as  though  it  were. 
Some  few  great  saints  in  the  world  seem  to 
find  it  so,  in  spite  of  everything,  unto  the 

[43] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

end.     But  sometimes,  I  don't  know,  I  don't 
know. 

NELLIE.  But  why?  Oh,  Father,  can't  you  tell  me 
why? 

HERON.  Because  of  sin — man's  sin.  Because  of 
destruction — woman's  destruction.  That's 
why. 

NELLIE  thinks  this  over  for  a  moment 
or  so.  Then,  as  to  herself; 

NELLIE.  I'll  get  to  know  more  about  this.  Some 
thing  inside  me  urges  me.  Perhaps  it's 
Mother. 

There  is  a  long  silence  between  them, 
as  the  darkness  deepens. 

Presently,  there  is  heard  a  sound  out 
side,  through  the  window.  Foot 
steps.  Then  two  voices,  a  mans 
and  a  woman  s. 

MAN.  'Ere  you,  Daisy.  What  are  you  spying 
around  for?  This  ain't  your  beat. 

[44] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

WOMAN.  Don't  you  speak  to  me.     Keep  off,  I  tell 
you! 

MAN.       (quite  good-humouredly) .  Oh,  you  beauty! 

WOMAN.  Light  your  lamp,  man,  and  get  along  on 
your  rounds. 

MAN.       Well,  I  can't  take  you  along  with  me;    so 
'just  one  kiss  before  we  part'  you  know  .  .  . 
(Aggrieved.)  Oh,  ori  right,  sulky.     Since 
you're  one  o'  them  sort!  .  .  . 

He  lights  the  street  lamp,  which  is 
gas, and  can  be  seen  through  the  win 
dow.  It  sends  a  sickly  glare  over 
the  piano,  reaching  the  portrait  on 
the  wall.  The  father  and  the  daugh 
ter  still  sit  in  the  gloom  of  the 
settee. 

Well,  so  long,  duckie.     Ain't  yer  going 
ter  say  good  night?    Oh,  orl  right  then!  .  .  . 

He  clatters  off  on  his  rounds,  singing 
the  following  edifying  song; 


THE   NECESSARY    EVIL 

(Song)    You'd  take  'er  for  a  milliner, 

Wivaht  no  thought  of  ill  in  'er, 
She  looks  that  soft   and    artless   in 

the  eye; 

She'd  not  so  much  as  walk  with  yer, 
To  'ear  'er  kind  of  talk  with  yer; 
But   ain't   she  just  a  warm   un  on 
the  sly! 


His  voice  dies  away  not  unmelodiously 

in  the  distance. 
When    all    is   silent    again,    the   girl 

speaks; 

NELLIE.  Let  it  be  Brahms,  Father.  Something 
beautiful.  Just  to  take  the  taste  away, 
you  know. 

HERON.  As  we  are?    In  the  dark? 

NELLIE.  Yes.  You'll  just  have  time  before  Frank 
comes. 

He  rises  and  goes  to  the  piano. 

HERON.   Well,  what  is  it  to  be? 

[46] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 
NELLIE.  The  Intermezzo,  of  course.    My  Intermezzo. 

He  commences  the  Intermezzo:  An 
dante,  largo  e  mesto;  Op.  118, 
No.  6. 


The  light  of  the  street  lamp  falls  upon 
him  from  behind:  his  face  is  in  deep 
shadow.  The  girl  in  her  white 
dress,  down  on  the  settee,  looks  like 
a  little  pale  ghost. 

JOHN  HERON  may  not  have  been  suc 
cessful  with  his  compositions;  but 
he  knows  how  to  play  with  certainty, 
sincerity  and  interpretation.  He  has 
poetry  and  imagination;  but  does 
not  slop  over;  and  he  knows  what 
Brahms  means. 

He  reaches  the  transitional  chord  in 
bar  20,  when  the  girl  speaks; 

NELLIE.  How  wonderful!  .  .  .  It's  as  though 
Mother's  spirit  had  just  entered  the 
room. 

[47] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

JOHN  HERON  holds  the  chord  through 
her  speech,  and  passes  on,  continu 
ing  the  Intermezzo. 

NELLIE  rises  softly  and  joins  him  at 
the  pianOy  resting  one  hand  lovingly 
upon  his  shoulder.  Presently,  she 
turns  away  to  the  window,  leaning 
against  the  frame,  looking  out. 
The  light  of  the  street  lamp  is  upon 
her  face. 

JOHN  HERON  reaches  the  transitional 
chord  in  bar  40,  when  his  daughter's 
sudden  exclamation  stops  him  short. 

NELLIE.  Father!  .  .  . 

HERON.   Oh,  Nellie!  .  .  .  What  is  it,  my  child? 

NELLIE.  She's    out    there.      Look!     She's    moving 
away.     She's  been  listening. 

HERON.  Why,  it's  the  very  same  woman. 

NELLIE.  Ssh!     She'll  hear  you.     I'll  ...     I'd  like 
to  speak  to  her. 

[48! 


.THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 
HERON.  No,  Nellie,  I  ... 

He  restrains  her; 

I  don't  want  you  to,  Nellie.     Not  you. 
NELLIE.  But  if  she's  wanting  me?  .  .  . 

HERON.  Nonsense:  she  doesn't  want  you.  She  was 
just  listening  to  old  Brahms. 

NELLIE.  Yes,  that  was  rather  nice  of  her,  too. 

HERON.  Come,  let's  have  a  light  on  the  subject. 
Where  are  the  matches?  Oh  ... 

NELLIE.  There  is  a  sort  of  magic  in  it — meeting 
people's  eyes.  And  I  thought  I  should 
never  see  her  any  more. 

HERON.  Come,  come,  my  child.  Frank  will  be 
here  before  you  can  say  Jack  Robinson. 

NELLIE.  Oh,  how  selfish  of  me.   I  had  forgotten  Frank. 

JOHN  HERON  has  struck  a  match. 
[49] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

HERON.  Now  (indicating  the  candles)  do  I  light  these 
things? 

NELLIE.  No,  no:  that's  my  ceremony,  later.  You 
just  light  the  gas,  whilst  I  go  and  look  after 
the  kettle.  It's  Mary's  night  out,  you 
know. 

When  she  goes  to  the  door,  she  turns, 
the  light  of  the  street  lamp  reaching 
her  up  there; 

Oh,  Daddy,  perhaps  life  is  a  little  beauti 
ful,  after  all.     Frank's  coming. 

And  she  goes  out,  the  gladness  strug 
gling  back  again  into  her  eyes. 

JOHN  HERON,  left  alone,  lights  the 
gas,  and  then  his  pipe.  He  goes  to 
the  right,  and  throws  the  match  into 
the  fire.  He  turns  up  the  room, 
catches  sight  of  his  wife's  portrait, 
stops,  and  stands  looking  at  it. 


Then; 

[So] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

HERON.  What  a  curious  child!  .  .  . 

He  thinks  a  little:  then  goes  to  the 
piano,  and  plays  over  the  pianis 
simo  phrase,  bars  17  to  20,  of  the 
Intermezzo,  ending  with  the  transi 
tional  chord  first  mentioned  above. 

Hm!    So  it  is:  so  it  is. 


A  moment  later  there  is  heard  a  hearty 
rat-tat-tat  at  the  street  door. 

It's  my  boy!  .  .  . 

A  rushing  of  glad  feet  along  the  pas- 
sage,  a  pause,  and  a  babble  of  laugh 
ter  and  voices,  as  brother  and  sister 
meet. 

And  they  burst  into  the  room. 

FRANK  is  a  handsome  young  fellow, 
quite  lovable,  almost  likable.  He 
throws  down  his  coat  and  his  hat 
and  bag,  anywhere,  anyhow,  as  he 
enters. 

[Si] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

FRANK.  Let's  get  rid  of  these  dratted  things,  and 
I'll  kiss  you  again.  Now,  where's  your 
mouth!  .  .  . 

By  Jove  though,  isn't  she  a  spanker! 
Why  you're  almost  as  big  as  ...  Filled 
out,  too!  Here,  wait  a  moment  .  .  . 

He  fishes  into  his  bag  and  brings  out 
a  parcel  done  up. 

Many  happy  returns  of  the  day,  and 
here's  a — what  was  it,  we  used  to  call  them? 
—here's  a  pres-pres  for  you. 

NELLIE.  Oh!     Frank!! 

She  begins  tugging  at  the  string,  first 
with  her  fingers,  then  with  her 
teeth. 

FRANK.  Look  at  her!  Mind  your  teeth,  now.  You 
won't  get  any  more  kisses,  if  you  spoil  your 
pretty  teeth.  Here,  try  this. 


NELLIE.  There's  a  pretty  knife  for  a  man!    Mother 
of  pearl!     Where  did  you  get  it? 

1 52] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 
FRANK.   That?    Oh — a  girl. 

NELLIE.  A  girl  gave  you  a  knife!    Well  .  .  . 
FRANK.   Why,  what's  the  matter? 
NELLIE.  Cuts  love,  you  know. 

FRANK.   Well,  perhaps  there  wasn't  much  to  cut  in 
this  case. 

NELLIE.  Frank:  you're  engaged! 
FRANK.  Me?  Not  if  I  know  it! 
NELLIE.  Now  for  the  pres-pres! 

She  attacks  the  string  with  the  knife 
in  her  clumsy  woman  s  way.  ( They 
really  don't  know  how  to  use  knives.) 

FRANK,  who  has  been  including  his 
father  in  the  above  conversation,  by 
all  sorts  of  knowing  little  winks  and 
nodsy  now  addresses  him  directly; 

FRANK.  Well,  Dad! 

[53] 


THE   NECESSARY    EVIL 
HERON.  My  boy,  my  dear  boy! 

They  shake  hands,  shyly,  as  men  will, 
after  long  absence. 

NELLIE.  Father's  going  to  kill  a  fatted  calf  for  you 
tomorrow.  Had  your  din-din  ? 

FRANK.    Got  it  on  the  train.     Fatted  calf,  eh?  .  .  . 
Well,  that's  better  than  railway  patie  de 
fois  gras  and  champagne. 

Well  now,  how's  things  ?    How's  the  music  ? 

HERON  (pleased).  Oh,  the  music's  all  right,  thankee, 
my  boy.  Got  three  new  pupils;  and  they've 
voted  me  that  rise  in  salary  up  at  the 
church,  at  last!  How's  electricity? 

FRANK.  A,  one.  Things  going  ahead  like  wildfire 
over  yonder.  Think  they  ought  to  be  doing 
something  for  me,  the  way  they're  making 
money. 

HERON.  That's  good.  Oh,  I'm  doing  famously,  I 
can  tell  you.  Why,  only  this  very  morn 
ing  .  .  . 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

But  NELLIE  has  opened  her  parcel; 

NELLIE.  Oh,   Frank,  how    beautiful!  .  .  .  Daddy, 
look! 


HERON.  Yes,  isn't  it?  Frank,  only  this  very  .  .  . 
Yes,  beautiful  ...  It  was  at  breakfast 
time  ... 

«*;.' 

NELLIE.  Real  silver,  too!  It's  simply  too  lovely 
for  ...  What  is  it? 

FRANK.   Oh,  just  .  .  .     Powder-puff  or  something. 
NELLIE    (blankly).  Powder?  .  .  . 
FRANK.    Yes,  rub  on  your  nose,  you  know. 
NELLIE.  Oh.     I'll  get  some  at  once. 

HERON.  Frank,  we  were  just  sitting  down  to  break 
fast,  when  the  postman  .  .  . 

NELLIE.  Oh,  but  you  naughty  boy.  You  must  have 
paid  an  awful  lot  of  money  for  a  thing  like 
this. 

[55] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

FRANK.  Nonsense.  What's  the  use  of  having  a 
pretty  woman  on  the  premises,  if  you  don't 
spend  money  on  her? 

Now,  Father.     What  did  the  postman  say 
he  had  for  breakfast  this  morning? 

HERON.  I  didn't  mention  the  postman.  I  was  going 
to  tell  you  about  my  royalties. 

FRANK.   About  your  what? 

HERON.  Got  a  cheque,  my  boy.  Came  this  morn 
ing.  A  cheque  for  royalties  on  my  first 
published  song. 

FRANK.  First,  eh?  You  don't  mean  to  tell  me 
you've  been  publishing  any  more  of  them. 

HERON  (hastily).  No,  no,  it's  the  same  song — the 
old  one,  you  know.  But  just  fancy! 
Royalties!  Why,  I'll  be  able  to  buy  almost 
all  the  music  I  want,  soon,  with  all  these 
royalties  pouring  in. 

FRANK.    What  do  you  think  of  that,  now?     Father's 
music  turning  out  valuable  in  his  old  age. 
[56] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 
NELLIE.  It's  true.     Isn't  it  splendid? 

FRANK.  Splendid  isn't  the  word  for  it.  Look  here, 
Dad.  Guess  what.  I  saw  a  copy  of  that 
old  song  of  yours  the  other  day,  for  sale. 

HERON.  Did  you  hear  that,  Nellie?  What  did  I  tell 
you?  I'm  getting  known. 

FRANK.  I  tell  you,  it  made  me  feel  as  proud  as 
punch. 

HERON.   I'll  bet  it  did,  bless  you.     Where  was  this? 
FRANK.   Oh,  down  in  the  City  somewhere  .  .  . 

HERON  (to  NELLIE).  City,  mind  you!  One  of  these 
big  places,  I'll  be  bound,  where  they  do 
keep  an  intelligent  eye  on  a  man's  work. 

FRANK.  Well,  I  can't  say  that  exactly,  Father.  The 
place  was  quite  small. 

HERON    (conceding  the  point).  Well,  that's  a  trifle. 
FRANK.    It  was  a  second-hand  bookstall. 

is?] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 
HERON.  Oh. 

And  he  cogitates  solemnly  as  NELLIE 
sweeps  into  the  conversation. 

NELLIE.  And  now,  dearly  beloved  brethren,  for  the 
real  business  of  the  evening.  You've  had 
dinner,  and  so  have  we.  Nothing  remains 
therefore,  but  for  me  to  introduce  you  to 
my  birthday  cake.  Birthday  Cake:  this 
is  my  brother,  Frank. 

FRANK  contemplates  the  cake  atten 
tively  for  a  moment:    then  bows; 

FRANK.  How  do  you  do,  Miss?  Ah — Saucy!  She's 
winking  candles  at  me. 

NELLIE.  Isn't  he  funny?    Cakes  aren't  shes. 

FRANK.  This  one  is.  I  say,  Nellie,  have  I  got  to 
eat  all  this? 

NELLIE.  It's  all  very  well,  you  talking!  You  were 
always  the  greedy-greedy  when  you  were  a 
kid. 

[58] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 
FRANK.    Fate  is  just.     I  accept  my  punishment. 

NELLIE.  Pig!     I'll  go  and  make  the  tea. 

She  dances  to  the  door,  and  turns; 

Black  tea:  strong  tea:  tea  like  coffee: 
tea  with  all  the  tannin  in  it:  the  kind  of 
tea  that  you  and  Daddy  like!  Ugh! 

And  with  a  grimace  and  a  kiss  of  the 
handy  she  vanishes. 

JOHN  HERON  wakes  up  sadly  as  from 
a  trance; 

HERON.  Frank,  tell  me.  What  price  were  they  ask 
ing  for  that  little  cradle  song  of  mine? 

FRANK.  Father,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  couldn't 
exactly  reckon  that  out.  It  was  one  of  a 
bundle,  offered  job  lot. 

HERON.  Hm!  .  .  . 

Look  here,  Frank,  you  don't  understand 
anything  about  music,  I  know  that;    but 
[59] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

did  there  happen  to  be  a  name  like  Johannes 
Brahms  tucked  away  in  the  oblivion  of  that 
bundle? 

FRANK.  Brahms?  No,  I  should  have  spotted  him  at 
once.  He's  the  chap,  you're  always  thump 
ing  at,  isn't  he? 

HERON.  Then  if  Brahms  wasn't  there,  who  in  the 
devil's  name  was? 

FRANK.  I  don't  think  I  quite  .  .  .  Yes,  I  do. 
There  was  a  fellow  called  Strauss  for  one. 

HERON.   Richard?  !  !  .  .  . 

FRANK.    Yes,  youVe  got  it:  that's  it — Richard. 

JOHN  HERON  goes  and  sits  down  on  the 
keyboard  of  the  piano.  In  the  bass. 
The  cacophony  relieves  him. 

And  NELLIE  enters  with  the  tea. 

NELLIE.  And  now,  we're  all  going  to  be  really  happy, 
aren't  we? 

[60] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

Isn't  this  glorious,  Frank?  You  never 
saw  me  up  and  about  and  able  to  make  tea 
before. 

FRANK.  I've  been  thinking  I  ought  to  have  written 
to  you  oftener,  Nellie;  but  somehow 
things  .  .  . 

Well,  I'm  sorry  I  didn't,  now. 

NELLIE.  Dear  Frank!  .  .  . 

Oh,  I  tell  you,  I'm  growing:  growing  fast. 
I'm  going  to  become  a  terror  in  this  house 
hold.  I've  commenced  to  take  up  some  of 
my  responsibilities  already. 

This  tickles  FRANK  exceedingly. 

Well,  of  all  the  ungrateful  .  .  .  Brother, 
stop  laughing! 

FRANK.    Responsibilities!    You!  .  .  . 

NELLIE.  Frank!  Frank!  Father,  do  something  to 
him. 

HERON.  Well,  you  know,  my  child,  tea  isn't  very 
much  of  a  responsibility. 
[61] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

NELLIE.  That's  all  very  well.  You  don't  know  who 
made  the  soup  you  had  today  at  dinner. 

HERON.  Soup?    What  soup? 

NELLIE.  The  soup  you  turned  up  your  nose  at,  and 
said  was  salty. 

HERON.   And  so  it  was — damnably  salty. 

NELLIE.  Well,  I  made  it,  see?  It  was  my  first  at 
tempt.  But  I  start  rissoles  tomorrow. 

Both  men  look  at  each  other  weakly. 

FRANK  (suddenly).  Father,  I'm  going  away  again 
tonight. 

HERON.  Tonight?     What  for? 

FRANK.  Before  Nellie  makes  shipwreck  of  me,  with 
her  responsibilities. 

NELLIE  (with  mock  gravity).  You  know,  Frank, 
you've  got  the  makings  of  a  really  bad  man 
in  you. 

[62] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

I  tell  you,  you  won't  laugh  at  my  sense  of 
responsibility,  by  the  time  I've  done.  I've 
got  lots  of  little  plans  working  in  my  head: 
plans  much  more  important  than  soup  and 
rissoles:  plans  about  life,  about  my  work 
in  the  world,  about — real  things. 

FRANK.    Bless  her,  isn't  she  sweet? 

NELLIE.  But  come,  this  isn't  tea.  Now,  Frank, 
there's  you.  There's  you,  Daddy.  Here's 
me — I  mean,  I.  And  over  there  is  ... 

She  has  planted  FRANK  to  the  right  of 
the  table,  her  FATHER  to  the  left, 
HERSELF  at  the  bottom  with  her  back 
to  the  Audience;  and  she  is  now  in 
dicating  the  vacant  place  at  the  head 
of  the  table. 

FRANK.   Who  ? 

NELLIE  (softly).  Our  mother. 

FRANK  takes  this  in:  then  he  gets  up 
and  kisses  her. 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 
FRANK.    Good  kid. 

He  goes  back  to  his  place.     NELLIE  is 
pouring  out  the  tea. 

NELLIE.  Well,  that  ought  to  be  black  enough  to 
please  a  nigger.  Please,  Daddy  .  .  . 

He  places  the  cup  at  the  head  of  the 
table. 

Oh,  I'm  sure  she's  there!  .  .  . 
Sug-sug,  Frank? 

FRANK.   Three  for  me.     Plenty  of  cream. 

NELLIE.  You're  like  Daddy.  He's  the  sweetest  tooth 
of  any  man  I  ever  met. 

HERON.  Well,  you've  not  met  many,  you  know. 

NELLIE.  I  know  all  about  them,  for  all  that.  I 
haven't  lived  twentyone  years  in  the  house 
with  you,  Daddy  dear,  without  getting  to 
know  everything  there  is  to  know  about 
men. 

[64] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

FRANK.  If  you  learned  everything  you  know  about 
men  from  the  Dad,  Nellie,  you're  still  in  the 
teething  stage.  It's  like  one  baby  trying  to 
teach  another. 

HERON  (laughing).  You  impudent  young  dog!  What 
do  you  know  about  it,  I'd  like  to  know! 

FRANK.  I  know  more  about  it  than  you,  Dad.  I  tell 
you,  I've  been  keeping  my  eyes  open,  out 
there  in  the  City.  I've  been  studying  life. 

HERON.  Life!    In  the  City! 

FRANK.  Oh,  life  isn't  everything  you  think  it  is  in 
poky  little  holes  like  this.  We  men  of  the 
world — of  the  real  world,  mind  you  .  .  . 

HERON.  Hark  at  him!  If  you  men  of  the  world,  as 
you  call  yourselves,  think  you  can  teach  .  .  . 

FRANK.  Look  here,  Dad,  you  mean  well,  I  know 
that.  Lots  of  old  gentlemen  mean  well. 
But  you're  simply  not  born  yet.  Do  you 
understand?  Get  that  into  your  head, 
dear  old  chap,  and  be  humble-minded. 


\ 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 
HERON.   Well,  I'm  ... 

All  of  which  has  been  done  with  ex- 
cellent  good  humour,  both  sides;  but 
now  NELLIE  thinks  it  best  to  step  in; 

NELLIE.  Now, now, gentlemen,  no  argufying.  Father, 
you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself,  setting 
up  your  opinion  against  your  son's!     No! 
I  won't  hear  a  word  of  your  defence!  .  .  . 
Besides  .  .  . 

This  is  a  serious  point  in  the  ceremonial 
of  the  evening.    I  'm  going  to  light  the  candles. 

FRANK.  If  you'd  only  have  let  me  know  beforehand, 
I'd  have  brought  over  a  full  electrical  rig- 
out  for  you. 

NELLIE.  Frank,  you  decadent!  Candles  are  a  part 
of  the  mystery.  Can't  you  understand? 

She  rises.  Her  back  is  still  to  the 
Audience. 

Look  at  them,  the  darlings!    Twentyone 
of  them.     There's  a  candle  for  every  one 

[661 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

of  the  years  I  have  been  in  the  world:  the 
first  little  cradle  years,  when  I  couldn't  even 
walk  and  talk:  the  dear  happy  school  years 
when  Mother  was  alive,  all  sunny  bright 
ness  and  I  never  knew:  the  long  weary 
plaster  of  Paris  and  codliver  oil  years,  up 
there  in  my  bedroom;  and  last  of  all,  this 
blessed  beautiful  Now,  when  I'm  down 
stairs  and  strong  again,  and  a  grown  woman. 
Thank  God  for  every  one  of  them! 

And  the  first  little  candle — that  little 
white  plump  one  in  the  middle — is  going  to 
be  lighted  by  Mother.  I'll  be  Mother. 

She  runs  round  to  the  head  of  the  table, 
and  now  faces  the  Audience. 

Brethren,  rise.     The  ceremony. 

Both  men  rise  obediently. 

Frank,  lower  the  gas  a  little:  just  .  .  . 
Thanks.     Daddy,  give  me  a  match. 

They  do  so.     The  gas  is  just  above  the 
table,  sending  down  a  pale  light. 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

NELLIE  lights  the  middle  candle.     The 
ceremony  holds  them  for  a  moment. 

That's  how  I  began — a  little  weak  flame, 
lighted  on  earth  by  Mother.  And  now  she's 
gone,  and  I'm  grown  up.  Isn't  life  strange? 

Dear  God,  make  me  like  her.  Make  use 
of  me.  Give  me  pity,  that  I  may  spend 
myself  for  others.  Like  my  mother. 

There  is  heard  a  low  slow  knocking  at 
the  street  door.     Three  knocks. 

Oh,  how  it  made  me  jump! 
HERON.   Who  can  it  be,  I  wonder. 

NELLIE.  Frank,    you    answer.     There's    only    our 
selves  in  the  house. 

FRANK  goes  out  of  the  room. 

HERON.    Rather  an  awkward  moment  for  visitors, 
isn't  it? 

NELLIE.  Hark!     It's  a  woman  talking  .  .  . 

[68] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 
HERON.   Perhaps  it's  only  some  poor  .  .  . 

NELLIE.  Ssh!  .  .  . 

FRANK  comes  back  into  the  room. 

FRANK.    It's  a  woman.     Wants  to  see  you.     'The 
young  lady'  she  says. 

NELLIE.  What  does  she  want  with  me? 

FRANK.   I  don't  know.     'Must  see  the  young  lady.' 
Wants  you.   That's  all  I  could  get  out  of  her. 

NELLIE.  Wants  me!     Father  .  .  . 
Ask  her  in  here. 

FRANK  knits  his  brows  thoughtfully. 
FRANK.    In  here,  eh? 
NELLIE.  Yes. 
FRANK     (significantly).  Well  .  .  . 

He  speaks  through  the  open  doorway; 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 
Won't  you  come  in? 

The  WOMAN  enters. 

She  is  tall,  dark,  sombre.  She  is 
dressed  rather  well,  but  quietly,  with 
some  taste;  and  is  obviously  poor. 
Her  face  has  strangely  enough  a  cer 
tain  Madonna-like  beauty  about  it — 
a  beauty  smitten  across  by  some 
tragical  and  nameless  horror. 

She  stands  for  a  moment  in  the  door 
way,  silent,  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the 
young  girl.  Indeed,  she  hardly 
ever  looks  away  from  her;  and  it 
will  be  observed,  she  never  once  ad 
dresses  directly  either  of  the  two 
men. 

NELLIE.  Father,  I  knew  it!     It's  the  .  .  . 

There  is   a  long  pause.     FRANK   is 

to  the  right,  near  the  fireplace:   his 

FATHER  left  by  the  settee:   NELLIE, 

up  to  the  WOMAN'S  left,  facing  her. 

[70] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

WOMAN.  I  oughtn't  to  have  come  in,  by  rights.  I 
have  no  right  here,  at  all:  no  human  right. 
I  knew  that,  the  moment  I  entered  the 
passage.  But  I'm  here;  and  I  can't  go 
back  again,  unless  you  tell  me. 

That's  strange,  too.  Here.  In  this  room. 
With  you. 

NELLIE.  I  am  sure,  you  are  very  .  .  . 
WOMAN.  No.     Not  if  you  knew. 

FRANK  looks  up  quickly,  suspiciously; 

FRANK.  Perhaps,  if  it's  any  help  you  want,  my 
father,  or  even  myself  .  .  . 


The  WOMAN  turns  a  long  clear  look 
upon  him;  then  the  eyes  travel  back 
again  to  NELLIE. 

WOMAN.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  go  away  again.     I  will, 
if  you  tell  me.     Back  to — my  own  place. 

NELLIE.  No,  no,  I  want  you  to  stay.     I  do,  really. 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 
HERON.   I'm  not  quite  sure,  Nellie;   but  if  ... 

WOMAN.  Maybe,  he's  right.     You'd  better  let  me  go. 

NELLIE.  I  can't.  I  don't  know  why.  But  there's 
something  holding  me;  and  I  want  you. 

WOMAN.  God  knows,  I  want  you. 
NELLIE.  That  settles  it  then. 
WOMAN.  But  you  don't  know  me. 

NELLIE.  I  know  you  by  sight.  I  saw  you  tonight, 
out  there  through  the  window.  You  were 
listening  to  the  music. 

WOMAN.  Yes,  I  was  listening — to  the  music. 

NELLIE.  So  you  see,  there  is  some  kind  of  bond 
between  us,  and  therefore  .  .  . 

WOMAN.  But  you  don't  know  me.  You  don't  know 
what  I  am. 

NELLIE.  I  don't  want  to  know.     I  only  know  that 

[72] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

you  are  very  unhappy.     I  saw  that,  out 
there. 

WOMAN.  What  is  my  unhappiness,  that  it  should 
touch  the  innocent  heart  of  a  flower  like  you? 

NELLIE.  You're  a  woman.     And  I'm  one,  too. 

The  WOMAN  considers  this  for  a  mo 
ment:   then  she  says  slowly; 

WOMAN.  I'm  a  woman,  am  I?  Thank  you.  I  had 
forgotten. 

NELLIE.  But  don't  you  see,  you  love  people  because 
you  love  them.  Just  because  they're  peo 
ple.  You  don't  mind  anything  about  their 
being  .  .  .  well — poor. 

WOMAN.  It's  not  poverty,  I'm  thinking  of. 
NELLIE.  Well  then,  because  they're  unhappy  .  .  . 
WOMAN.  I'm  not  thinking  of  unhappiness. 

NELLIE.  Then  won't  you  tell  me  what  it  is? 

[73] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

WOMAN.  It's  a  word,  I've  only  just  learned.  An 
old-fashioned  word.  I  heard  it  through  the 
window. 

NELLIE.  Tell  it  me. 
WOMAN.  Sin. 

FRANK  cannot  conceal  his  irritation 
any  longer;  though  he  tries  as  far  as 
he  knows  how,  not  to  hurt  the 
WOMAN'S  feelings; 

FRANK.  Yes,  but  look  here,  Nellie,  if  this  poor 
woman  is  in  any  trouble  or  anything,  per 
haps  some  other  time  .  .  .  with  my  father, 
alone  ...  or  again,  a  note  to  the  clergy 
man  of  the  parish—  After  all,  they're  paid 
to  look  after  cases  like  these.  Surely,  it 
isn't  quite  appropriate  for  you,  a  young 
girl  .  .  .  And  at  a  time  like  this,  too! 

He  turns  to  the  WOMAN  herself; 

You  see,  my  sister  is  only  an  inexperi 
enced  child:  she  doesn't  understand.     Nat- 

[74) 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

urally,     her    sympathies  .  .  .     And     then 
again,  her  immaturity  .  .  . 

What  do  you  think,  Father?     Don't  you 
think  I'm  right? 

HERON.  Eh,  what's  that?  ...  I  beg  your  pardon: 
I  don't  think  I  quite  .  .  . 

FRANK.  Oh  Dad,  dear  old  chap,  do  wake  up!  This 
isn't  the  time  to  be  mooning  about  music! 

HERON  (gently).  It  wasn't  music,  my  boy.  I  was 
thinking  about  something — about  some 
body — else. 

FRANK.    Oh,  all  right  then,   if  you  weren't  listen 


ing! 


Washing  his  hands  of  the  whole  matter, 
he  flings  himself  disgustedly  into  the 
comfortable  arm-chair.  There  is 
something  indescribably  manly  about 
him.  And  he  bites  his  nails. 

The  WOMAN'S  eyes  have  never  left  the 
girl. 

[751 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 
WOMAN.  Well?  .  .  . 

NELLIE.  Stay. 

Be  at  home,  won't  you  ?     Won't  you  take 
your  hat  off? 

The  WOMAN  obeys  mechanically,  still 
looking  at  her. 

And  now  we  can  go  right  on  from  where 
we  left  off  before  you  came  in.  You  see, 
you  happen  to  have  arrived  at  a  very  im 
portant  moment  in  my  life.  I'm  twenty- 
one.  This  is  my  birthday  party.  It's 
really  a  very  silly  little  birthday  party- 
only  cake  and  tea;  but  if  you  don't  mind 
joining  us  ... 

WOMAN.  Thankyou :  I  don't  think  I  want  to  eat,  here. 
NELLIE.  Well,  at  least,  a  nice  warm  cup  of  tea  ... 

WOMAN.  Thank  you:  I  don't  think  I  want  to  drink, 
here.  But  if  you  don't  mind,  I  would  just 
like  to  sit  down  a  little — only  a  little.  I've 
been  walking. 

[76] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

She  sits  down  at  the  head  of  the  table. 

NELLIE.  Now,  that's  just  what  I  was  hoping  you 
would  do — to  sit  down  there.  In  that 
place,  I  mean.  Do  you  know,  whom  that 
place  was  set  for? 

The  WOMAN  shakes  her  head. 

It  was  set  for  somebody  very  precious  to 
all  of  us  in  this  room.  It  was  set  for  my 
mother. 

The  WOMAN   rises  instinctively,  her 
eyes  widening. 

That's  her  portrait  behind  you.  Per 
haps  I  ought  to  tell  you:  she's  dead. 

The    WOMAN'S    head    turns    slowly 
towards  the  picture. 

So  you  will  take  her  place,  won't  you? 
She'd  like  you  to,  if  she  were  here.  She  is 
here. 

WOMAN.  She  is  very  like  you. 

[771 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 
NELLIE.  Thank  you.     Then  won't  you? 

The  WOMAN  looks  at  her  steadily; 
WOMAN.  Yes,  I  will. 

She  sits  down.  FRANK  takes  out  his 
pipe  and  sticks  it  viciously  into  his 
mouth. 

NELLIE.  Now,  Daddy  .  .  .     Now,  Frank  .  .  . 

FRANK.    Thank  you,  I'm  very  comfortable  where  I 
am.     If  you  don't  mind,  I'll  smoke. 
Oh,  but  perhaps  you  .  .  . 

After  which  courtesy,  he  smiles  iron 
ically  into  the  fire.  The  WOMAN 
makes  no  answer.  So  he  lights  up; 
and  at  certain  points  in  the  conversa 
tion  following,  puffs  vigorously. 

NELLIE.  Perhaps  after  all,  it's  better,  just  us  two 
women.     They  like  their  pipes,  you  know. 

Which  gives  her  FATHER  the  hint  to 
[78] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

light  up  and  sit  down  on  the  settee. 
He  is  more  or  less  in  the  gloom:  the 
two  women  are  in  the  pale  light  of  the 
candle  and  lowered  gas;  and  the 
young  man  in  the  red  glow  of  the 
fire. 

After  a  silence,  the  WOMAN  begins  to 
speak; 

WOMAN.  I  suppose  that's  what  first  drew  me  in — 
your  innocence.  I  felt  I  had  to  come.  I 
felt  I  had  something  to  say  to  you.  A  sort 
of  message  from  the  underworld.  You  see, 
young  girls  don't  know. 

NELLIE.  Yes,  I've  been  realising  that,  all  day  long — 
how  appallingly  ignorant  of  life,  I  am. 

WOMAN.  But  I  don't  want  to  hurt  you,  mind — not 
really  hurt  you — not  hurt  the  thing  inside 
you:  your  innocence. 

NELLIE.  Go  on. 

WOMAN.  And  you've  got  to  listen  very  carefully. 

[79] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

Because  I'm  going  to  say  things  that  have 
never  been  said  so  openly  before,  not  in 
front  of  young  girls. 

But  since  I'm  ...  for  the  moment  .  .  . 

Something  almost  beautiful  illumines 
her  face; 

your  mother  .  .  .  and  you're  my  child  .  .  . 

NELLIE.  Oh,    I    understand,   indeed   I    understand. 
Do  go  on. 

WOMAN.  Then  listen. 

I  suppose  you  do  know  how  babies  come 
into  the  world,  don't  you?  They  did  tell 
you  that? 

NELLIE.  I  don't  think  I  quite  .  .  .     What  do  you 
mean  exactly? 

WOMAN.  The  physical  fact.     The  natural  beautiful 
physical  fact.     How  they  come. 

NELLIE  is  silent  for  a  moment.     Then 
she  answers  in  a  low  voice; 
[8ol 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 
NELLIE.  Yes,  I  know  that. 

WOMAN.  I'm  glad.  Some  parents  are  so  foul-minded, 
they  don't  even  teach  their  children  that. 

FRANK    (under  his  breath).  Well,  my  God!  .  .  . 
And  he  taps  out  his  pipe  on  the  hob. 

WOMAN.  And  next:  have  you  ever  been  in  love?  In 
love  with  a  man,  I  mean.  Have  you? 

NELLIE    (her  head  bent  low).  Yes  .  .  . 

WOMAN.  Have  you  ever  thought  what  it  meant,  to 
•  marry  him?     All  that  it  meant?     To  live 

with  him,  to  give  up  everything  for  him,  to 
be  with  him,  by  his  side,  always?  Al 
ways?  .  .  . 

NELLIE.  Something  of  all  this,  yes — at  times  .  .  . 
Perhaps  vaguely,  unconsciously.  I  don't 
know  that  I  ever  let  myself  think  of  it 
quite  so  clearly  until  now. 

WOMAN.  Try  and  think  of  it  clearly,  actually.    Don't 

[81] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

be  ashamed,  afraid.  Don't  think  of  it 
merely  as  some  vague  romantic  bliss,  some 
idle  paradise  of  happy-ever-afterwards. 
Think  of  it  as  it  is.  To  speak  more  plainly : 
Have  you  ever  thought  of  yourself  as  a  wife, 
as  a  man's  wife?  Have  you  ever  thought 
of  yourself  as  a  mother,  as  the  mother  of  a 
man's  child? 

NELLIE.  Oh,  but  you  hurt  me,  you  hurt  me! 
WOMAN.  I  don't  want  to  hurt  you. 

NELLIE.  I  can't  help  it  really.  But  something  in 
side  of  me  ... 

WOMAN.  Look  at  it  steadily.  It  won't  hurt  you,  if 
you  look  at  it  steadily. 

NELLIE.  I'm  trying  to.     Indeed  I  am. 

WOMAN.  It's  really  beautiful,  if  you  only  look  at  it 
steadily.  It  must  be  beautiful;  because 
children  are  very  beautiful. 

NELLIE.  Forgive  me:   I'm  ashamed  of  myself:  only 

[82] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

I  wasn't  ready  for  it.     But  I  do  see:   really 
I  do.     Yes,  I  do. 

WOMAN.  Well  now:  can  you  imagine  a  woman  being 
like  that,  living  like  that,  with  a  man — a 
man! — intimately,  daily,  hourly  .  .  .  with 
out  even  ever  .  .  . 

NELLIE  (delicately).  Without  children ?  Is  that  what 
you  mean? 

WOMAN.  No,  I  didn't  mean  that;  though  God  knows, 
there's  that  also  for  some  of  us. 

NELLIE.  Then  what  did  you  mean?    Without  what? 

WOMAN.  It's  difficult  to  tell  you  .  .  .  Your  face  .  .  . 
Turn  your  face  away  from  me. 

NELLIE  does  so,  wonderingly. 

x 

What  I  meant  was  .  .  .  without  loving 
him,  without  gladness,  joy,  desire  of  chil 
dren  in  the  heart:  even  despising,  loathing 
him:  without  human  feeling — not  even  the 
feeling  of  an  outraged  beast. 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

NELLIE.  Marry  a  man,  live  with  him,  be  all  that  to 
him,  without — love!     It's  not  possible! 

WOMAN.  It  happens. 

NELLIE.  In  this  world?    This  beautiful  world? 
WOMAN.  Throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  it. 
NELLIE.  Oh!    Oh! 

WOMAN.  There  are  millions  of  women  like  that  in  the 
world,  unmarried — and  married! 

NELLIE.  Oh! 

WOMAN.  Yes,  have  your  horror  out.    It  hurts  me;  but 
it  is  well  you  should  see  the  vileness  of  it. 

NELLIE.  But  a  woman!     I  can't  imagine  .  .  .  How 
can  she?     It's  not  possible. 

WOMAN.  In  hell,  all  things  are  possible. 

NELLIE.  But  the  man  himself!     Her  man!     Even 
he  ... 

[84] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

WOMAN.  He!  One  man!  Do  you  talk  of  one  man? 
Her  loathing  is  not  for  one!  There's  many 
of  them!  Many  men!  .  .  .  Ugh!  Hun 
dreds! 

NELLIE.  Oh,  but  it  can't  be  true.  Life's  not  like 
that.  This  is  God's  world!  Why,  Christ 
came  over  nineteen  hundred  years  ago! 

WOMAN.  So  I've  heard  men  say. 
NELLIE.  It's  not  true.     How  do  you  know? 
WOMAN.  It  is  true.     I  do  know. 
NELLIE.  But  how?    How? 
WOMAN.  Can  you  bear  it? 

The  girl  bows  her  head,  weakly. 
I  am  one  of  them. 

She  receives  it  dumbly,  like  something 

stricken.     There  is  a  long  silence. 

After  a  while,  something  begins  to  work 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

in  her  face;  but  whether  horror  or 
pity  cannot  yet  be  seen.  At  last, 
she  falters; 

NELLIE.  I  didn't  understand.     I  only  thought  you 
were  poor,  wretched,  unhappy. 

WOMAN.  And  so  I  am.     Poor!    Cast  out!     Beggared 
in  body  and  in  soul!     Lost,  lost  forever! 

The  girl's  soul  stands  trembling  over 
infinite  abysses.  She  steadies  her 
self  by  a  great  effort,  looking  calmly 
with  great  eyes  at  the  WOMAN.  Then 
all  the  youth,  the  innocence,  the  un 
derstanding,  the  untouched  virgin  of 
her  soul,  leap  out  in  a  pure  white 
flame  of  pity; 

NELLIE.  Oh,  but  I  love  you!     Don't  be  lost,  don't 
be  lost.     Look  up!     Be  saved! 

And  so  they  stand,  face  to  face,  virgin 
and  harlot.  Sisters. 

FRANK  has  risen  from  the  arm-chair. 
[86] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

For  the  moment,  the  situation  has 
held  him  too.  Now  in  a  towering 
fury,  he  lets  himself  go; 

FRANK.  Father,  this  is  disgusting!  Are  you  going 
to  stand  by  and  see  your  daughter  .  .  . 
Here,  what's  that  damned  light  down  for? 
Let's  have  no  more  of  this  theatrical  tom 
foolery!  .  .  .  Lot  of  blasted  rot!  ... 

He  turns  up  the  gas  savagely,  flooding 
the  place  with  light.     Himself,  too. 

Father,  do  you  hear  me  ?  Are  you  going 
to  stand  all  this  blatant  indecency  being 
poured  wholesale  into  your  daughter's  ears? 

HERON,  (rising).  The  living  God  being  my  helper, 
yes,  I  am. 

FRANK.   Then  all  I  can  say,  is  ... 

WOMAN.  Oh,  they  don't  like  these  things  spoken 
about,  these  men — some  men.  Not  out 
loud,  you  understand.  In  their  clubs  per 
haps,  or  their  drinking  saloons,  or  in  the 

[87] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

adulterous  high  parliaments  and  senates 
where  they  sit  like  gods  and  manage  the 
world  for  us  women — in  snickers,  and 
mucky  whispers,  and  liquor-sodden  imbe 
cilities;  but  not  out  aloud!  Oh,  it  hurts 
them:  makes  them  uncomfortable:  dis 
turbs  their  peace — out  loud!  They  don't 
mind  what  deeds  they  do,  hidden  away  in 
the  black  darkness  of  their  lives,  unknown, 
out  of  sight — and  God  in  Heaven  is  blind! 
But  you  mustn't  ever  speak  about  it!  Not 
out  aloud,  you  understand!  Not  aloud, 
like  this! 

FRANK.  It's  because  of  this  young  girl,  I  tell  you, 
this  unspotted  girl  .  .  .  my  sister  .  .  . 

WOMAN.  Oh  yes,  their  wives,  their  daughters,  their 
little  sisters  must  be  sheltered:  they  must 
be  protected:  no  harm  come  to  their  pure 
ears.  Christ's  blood!  What  about  our 
lives?  What  about  us? 

FRANK.   You!     Why  you're  only  a  common  .  .  . 

HERON.   Frank!  .  . 

[881 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

WOMAN.  Oh,  I  know  the  word,  well  enough!  We 
are  only  the  dirt  out  of  the  streets  yonder. 
Man's  dirt!  Husbands',  fathers'  dirt:  dirt 
of  sons  and  brothers!  .  .  . 

FRANK.    Father!  .  .  .  Nellie,  stop  your  ears! 

WOMAN.  I'll  make  them  listen  to  me.  I'll  cry  out 
upon  them.  I'll  discover  their  nakedness, 
their  shame.  This  voice  of  mine  shall  be 
prophetic  and  reach  to  the  uttermost  parts 
of  the  earth. 

NELLIE.  But  do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  men  .  .  . 
Men,  like  my  father  here,  like  brother,  like 
Alfred  .  .  .  Men,  made  in  the  image  of 
God  ... 

WOMAN.  Some  men:  many  men:  oh,  you  can  know 
them,  if  you  watch  them  carefully  enough. 

NELLIE.  But  their  faces  .  .  .  Their  beautiful  good 
faces  ...  Oh!  ... 

WOMAN.  Watch  them — the  straight  ones  won't  mind. 
Watch  them.  They  can't  hide  themselves, 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

if  you  watch  carefully  enough.  Track  them 
down.  Don't  leave  off  watching  till  you 
find  their  souls. 

NELLIE.  But  how  can  I — an  inexperienced  girl  .  .  . 

WOMAN.  That's  why!  That's  what  your  innocence 
is  for. 

NELLIE.  My  innocence  .  .  . 

WOMAN.  Yes,  if  it's  alive:  not  asleep  or  idle  or 
dreaming. 

NELLIE.  Then  innocence  is — something  that  must  be 
done  ? 

WOMAN.  Yes,  not  drugged,  not  put  away  and 
wrapped  in  cotton  wool.  It's  something 
violent:  unresting.  Something  that  must 
never  leave  off  working. 

NELLIE.  I  see,  I  see:  the  dove  and  the  serpent:  you 
must  have  them  both  .  .  . 

Oh,  but  the  waste,  the  waste,  the  wicked 
ness   of  it!    All    these   years.     Something 
[90] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

ought  to  have  been  done  by  now.  And  He 
died  so  long  ago!  Surely,  our  religions,  our 
many,  many  hundreds  of  religions  ought  to 
have  saved  us! 

WOMAN.  They  have  been  too  busy  damning  one 
another. 

NELLIE.  But  the  Law —  What's  the  Law  for?  The 
Law  cannot  possibly  overlook  a  thing  like 
this  ? 

WOMAN.  Oh,  it  punishes  the  woman  right  enough, 
when  it  catches  her. 

NELLIE.  Punishes?  .  .  .  But  the  man  .  .  .  What  of 
the  man? 

WOMAN.  Man  makes  the  Law. 

NELLIE.  Yes,  but  when  he  makes  it  about  a  thing 
like  this  .  .  . 

WOMAN.  This  thing  is  recognised  by  some  Christian 
countries,  legally.  Recognised,  provided 
for,  accepted. 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 
NELLIE.  What!     Countries  like — like  ours? 

WOMAN.  Oh,  some  countries  are  quite  polite  about  it! 
It's  not  exactly  recognised;  but  winked  at. 
Especially  where  there  are  great  armies  of 
soldiers. 

NELLIE.  But  what  have  they  to  say  about  it?  How 
can  they  justify  such  a  thing? 

WOMAN.  Oh,  there  are  always  words,  philosophies  . . . 

NELLIE.  What  possible  words,  what  possible  philos 
ophy  can  justify  a  nameless  horror  like  this? 

WOMAN.  Oh,  it  has  a  name.  Philosophy,  which 
argued  away  the  name  of  God  and  gave  a 
clod  of  mud  for  Man,  has  found  a  name  for 
it,  right  enough. 

NELLIE.  A  name?     For  this?    What  is  it? 
WOMAN.  The  Necessary  Evil. 

NELLIE.  Oh,  but  what  blasphemy!  Evil  .  .  .  nec 
essary? 

[92] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

WOMAN.  Necessary.     That's  what  they  say. 

FRANK  is  going  to  put  an  end  to  this. 
He  gathers  himself  up  for  violent 
assault.  He  is  purple  with  rage. 

The  two  women  are  still  in  the  middle. 
The  following  dialogue  between  the 
two  men  is  hurled  across  them  from 
one  side  of  the  room  to  the  other. 

FRANK.  And  so  it  is  necessary.  This  evil.  Nellie, 
you  don't  understand — you're  a  woman. 
But  Father's  a  man:  he  must  understand: 
he  can't  be  such  a  born  blind  .  .  .  Father! 
Listen  to  me.  You  must  listen  to  me. 
Are  we  to  stand  here,and  let  these  women  . . . 
My  God!  It's  unbearable!  Unthinkable! 
My  own  sister  .  .  . 

HERON.  Go  on,  my  boy,  I'm  listening.  Listening 
very  intently. 

FRANK.  You  know  what  a  man's  life  is,  Father. 
You  .  .  .  You  must  have  .  .  .  sometimes 
in  your  life  .  .  .  You  .  .  .  Damn  it,  you 

[93l 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

must  know  what   it   is   to  have  to  be  a 
man! 

HERON.  Yes,  that's  true.  I  know  something  about 
that. 

FRANK.  And  life  isn't  such  a  damnably  easy  thing, 
all  said  and  done. 

HERON.   Yes,  I  know  something  about  that,  too. 

FRANK.  Very  well  then.  We  don't  like  it— after 
wards.  We  don't  love  ourselves  for  it,  do 
we?  We  didn't  make  ourselves.  We 
didn't  invent  our  beastly  passions.  After 
all,  God  made  us:  at  least  I  suppose  He  did. 
We're  told  He  did.  He's  the  one  to  ... 

HERON.  Take  care,  my  boy.  Don't  add  blasphemy 
to  the  rest  of  it. 

FRANK.    Blasphemy  be  ... 

lie  loses  his  head  more  and  more  as 
he  proceeds; 

Besides,  who  is  going  to  accept  the  state- 
[941 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

ments  of  a  woman  like  this  ?  I  tell  you,  I'm 
sick  of  all  this  pious  talk  and  snivelling  and 
sentimentality  about  man's  sin  and  woman's 
degradation  and  the  rest  of  it.  Some  of 
these  women  choose  the  life:  they  like  it: 
they  do  it  wilfully  with  their  eyes  open. 
Fifty  per  cent  of  them.  More.  They 
were  born  that  way:  intended  for  it:  they 
don't  know  anything  of  all  the  high  talk  and 
prophetic  piffle  this  woman  has  been  treat 
ing  us  to,  I  can  tell  you !  They  come  to  you, 
dozens  of  them,  brazenly,  openly,  and  .  .  . 
Well,  I  could  tell  you  some  pretty  tales 
about  them,  if  I  wanted  to;  but  I  won't! .  . . 

HERON.  No:  I  think  perhaps  you'd  better  not. 

FRANK.  It's  they,  the  women,  these  women,  who 
nearly  always  make  the  first  overtures. 
We'd  get  on  all  right,  if  there  weren't  any 
damned  women  in  the  world.  It's  like 
Adam  and  Eve  in  the  Bible.  After  all,  I 
believe  what  my  Bible  tells  me:  The  woman 
did  tempt  me,  and  I  did  eat. 

HERON.  Your  unanimity  with  Adam  does  you  both 
credit. 

[951 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

FRANK.  And  as  for  their  blessed  whining  about  their 
poverty  and  their  childless  lives  and  their 
outcast  this  and  their  shunned  the  other  .  .  . 

HERON.  I  see,  it  destroys  everything.  Not  only 
honour,  truth,  manliness.  It  makes  you 
unpitiful,  too. 

FRANK    (fiercely).  What  does? 

HERON    (more  fiercely).     Lust!     Man's  lust! 

FRANK  goes  all  to  pieces,  sputtering; 

FRANK.  Oh,  but  Father,  it's  different  with  you  .  .  . 
You  don't  know  what  it  is!  You're  not 
like  the  rest  of  us!  You're  not  like  other 
men. 

HERON.  Am  I  not?     Do  I  look  like  a  weakling? 

FRANK.  No,  but  you  were  born  different.  Pure,  in 
nocent,  simple — call  it  what  you  like.  And 
the -n,  too,  your  quiet  pottering  sort  of  life 
down  here:  your  occupations  .  .  .  You 
can't  imagine,  you  can't  begin  to  imagine 

196] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

what  temptation   of  this  sort  is  to  other 
men. 

HERON.  Yes,  I've  had  that  told  me  before — by  men, 
down  at  the  club.  Club  men!  They've 
come  to  me,  slopping  with  leers  and  with 
whiskey,  and  told  me  I  was  different.  Born 
different!  Made  of  some  other  stuff.  Men 
with  pale  faces,  loose  lips,  and  a  certain 
lurid  wolf-look  in  the  eye,  red  rims  to  them; 
or  else  the  other  sort — the  sort  with 
blotches:  they  have  told  me  that.  Me! 
Me  with  my  crimson  blood,  clear  head, 
clean  liver,  and  a  heart  thumping  like  a 
steam-hammer!  I  can't  imagine,  can't  I? 
Look  at  me!  Damn  you,  look  at  me!  Do 
I  look  as  if  I  can't  imagine  ? 

FRANK  does  not  answer  this  point. 

Don't  you  make  any  mistake  about  it, 
my  boy.  I  know  all  about  it.  I  know 
everything  that  these  men  of  the  world 
know.  But  I  know  something  else  as  well. 

FRANK.   Well,  what's  that? 

[971 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

HERON.  Something  they  would  laugh  at:  some 
thing  hideously  funny  to  men  of  the 
world! 

FRANK.    Well,  well,  what  is  it? 

HERON.  That  there  is  a  Man  in  this  world — a  Real 
Man,  an  Alive  Man — Who  is  the  power  un 
to  salvation  from  sin. 

FRANK.  Isn't  that  a  little  old-fashioned,  Father? 

HERON.  Just  a  few  thousand  years,  yes:  I  hope  so. 

FRANK.  You  won't  find  people  agreeing  with  you. 

HERON.  They'll  have  to,  or  be  damned. 

FRANK.  After  all,  even  the  churches  aren't  so 
severe  as  you.  They're  coming  up  to  date 
on  this  point  as  on  all  the  others. 

HERON.  Let  them.  They'll  crumble  into  ruin  the 
sooner,  and  give  God's  Church  a  chance. 

FRANK.    But  the  scientists,   the  philosophers,   the 

[98] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

great  thinkers  of  the  age — they're  nearly 
all  of  them  against  you. 

HERON.  Oh,  to  hell  with  them! 

FRANK.  But  there's  not  a  book  you  can  take  up,  not 
a  play  you  can  go  and  see,  the  whole  of 
modern  literature,  music,  art — they  have 
all  decided  on  my  side.  Look  here,  Father, 
you're  a  musician.  You  ought  to  under 
stand.  After  all,  Art  means  something, 
doesn't  it? 

HERON.  Don't  you  talk  to  me  about  Art!  I'm  an 
artist.  I  know  all  about  Art!  Oh,  I  know 
I'm  unsuccessful,  not  known — that  sort  of 
success  in  these  days  you  can  share  with 
pills  and  newspaper  editors  and  politicians 
— and  it's  true,  I've  only  published  one 
trumpery  bit  of  a  song,  and  am  vain  as  a 
peacock  about  that;  but  I  am  an  artist, 
all  the  same.  God's  flame  burns  in  me,  too; 
and  the  people  I  do  reach,  just  the  few  of 
them,  here  in  this  little  tin-pot  of  a  place — 
aye,  and  beyond  it,  too — they  know  it! 
Nay,  I'll  prophesy:  they  shall  know  it  in 

[99] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

all  nations,  down  the  ages,  after  today!  .  .  . 
And  I  tell  you  now,  we're  going  to  alter  all 
this  modern  cackle  and  moon-calf  worship 
of  the  bawdy  bestiality  they  are  calling  Art! 
Yes,  I — I — I,  and  the  people  like  me!  We 
are  going  to  have  the  Real  Thing  here 
presently.  Don't  you  think  these  filth- 
mongers  are  going  to  have  it  all  their  own 
way.  Not  whilst  we're  here!  The  Real 
Thing,  like  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,  is  upon 
us!  The  Thing  that  Bach  and  Beethoven 
and  Brahms  stood  for:  the  Thing  that  gave 
us  Shakespeare  and  Euripides  and  Sophocles 
and  mighty  Aeschylus:  the  Thing  that  tells 
us  the  truth  about  God  and  life  and  human 
destinies  and  all  the  imperishables  in  the 
kingdom  of  our  everlasting  souls.  And  I'm 
part  of  it!  ... 

Art!  You  call  it  Art!  The  dirty  spew- 
ings  and  indecencies,  the  greasy  lusts,  the 
back-stair  adulteries,  abortions,  and  abomi 
nations  of  a  pack  of  beastly  decadents!  It's 
going  to  be  altered,  I  tell  you;  and  soon. 
We're  going  to  clean  out  this  cesspool 
before  long.  And  until  then,  let  there 
be  at  least  one  artist  to  stand  up  in  all 
[100] 


THE    NECESSARY   EVIL* 

this   world   of  liars,   and    flout    it    in   the 
face! 

FRANK.    Meaning  yourself,  I  suppose. 

HERON.  You  know  whom  I  mean.  Whether  it's  I, 
or  somebody  else,  doesn't  very  much  matter. 
I've  told  you  my  opinion  of  these  others; 
and  I  hope  they'll  get  to  know  about  it. 

FRANK.  All  the  same,  I  don't  see  that  this  has  to 
do  with  the  problem  we  are  discussing. 

HERON.  Hasn't  it?  Look  into  it  deeply,  and  you'll 
find  it  has.  If  Religion  and  Art  conspire 
in  lying,  how  is  the  world  ever  going  to  be 
saved  ? 

FRANK.  Saved!  Who's  talking  about  saving? 
Father,  I  do  wish  you'd  stow  this  evan 
gelical  clap-trap! 

HERON.  Do  you  find  the  world  so  beautiful  then, 
that  you  think  it  doesn't  need  it? 

FRANK.    Oh,  curse  the  world!   Curse  religion!    Curse 

fioil 


THE  -NECESSARY    EVIL 

art!  They've  nothing  whatever  to  do  with 
it.  It's  the  way  a  man's  made.  Our  dis 
gusting  bodies. 

HERON.  Don't  call  them  disgusting.  Mine's  not  dis 
gusting.  They 're  very  beautiful — our  bodies. 

FRANK.    I  call  them  beastly. 

He  hesitates  a  moment:    then  bursts 
out  again; 

Look  here,  Father,  you  can  preach  away 
at  me  as  you  please,  but  what  I  say  is  this: 
There  isn't  a  man  in  the  world  who  isn't 
implicated  somehow  in  this  problem.  It's 
natural.  It  touches  everyone  of  us.  If  not 
in  deed,  then  in  word:  if  not  in  word,  then 
in  thought.  There's  not  a  man  living  who 
is  really  clean. 

HERON.  You're  a  liar,  my  boy:  I  am.  Many  men 
are.  Millions  of  them.  But  they  don't 
always  write  books  or  plays. 

FRANK.    Oh,  all  right,  if  I'm  a  liar  .  .  . 

I   102  1 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

He  makes  to  move  away,  but  returns 
for  one  last  attack; 

Good  God!  How  do  they  manage  it? 
What  do  they  do?  What's  their  secret? 

HERON.  Abstinence,  prayer,  clean  habits,  a  busy  life, 
zest  in  the  world,  self-reverence,  reverence 
for  God,  for  others,  the  worship  of  woman, 
and — pity.  God  does  the  rest. 

FRANK  remains  silent  at  last. 

And  now,  let  me  ask  you — one  thing. 
What  leprous  poison  was  it  in  your  heart, 
made  you  take  up  this  stand  today? 

FRANK.    Oh,  it  doesn't  matter. 

He   turns    away,    and   leans   heavily 
against  the  mantelpiece. 

HERON.   I'd  like  to  hear,  my  boy.     Tell  me. 

But  he  remains  silent. 

Frank.     Didn't  you  hear  me? 
[103] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 
FRANK.    Yes,  I  heard  you,  all  right. 

HERON.  Then,  what  was  it? 

FRANK  (in  a  low  voice,  his  back  still  towards  his  father) . 
What's  the  use?  You  know  well  enough, 
without  my  telling  you. 

HERON.  My  boy,  I'm  waiting.  And  God  knows,  I 
love  you. 

The  boy  turns,  facing  his  father,  a 
despairing  wildness  in  his  eyes; 

FRANK.  Father  .  .  .  against  Heaven  and  before  you 
.  .  .  and  am  no  more  worthy  ...  no  more 
worthy  .  .  . 

He  sinks  into  the  arm-chair,  broken, 
burying  his  face  in  his  hands. 

His  father  goes  to  him. 

NELLIE  is  sitting  in  the  chair,  left  of 
the  table.     The  WOMAN   has  been 
standing,  motionless,  all  the  time. 
[  104] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

There  is  a  long  silence,  broken  at  last 
by  the  voice  of  the  WOMAN; 

WOMAN.  This,  then,  was  what  I  had  to  say.  My 
message  to  you  from  the  underworld.  Re 
member,  I  am  the  voice  of  millions,  dead 
and  alive:  the  voice  perhaps  of  millions  yet 
unborn.  Nay,  I  am  more:  I  am  your 
mother:  it  may  be — even — God. 

And  now  I  am  going  to  ask  you  just  one 
thing.  I  would  like  to  put  this  question  to 
you  and  to  every  young  girl  in  the  world. 

NELLIE.  What  is  it? 

WOMAN.  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it? 

NELLIE.  I  don't  know.     I  am  in  darkness.     Tell  me. 

WOMAN.  I  will. 

First  then,  your  innocence.  Cherish  it, 
keep  it  unspotted — within,  mind  you,  deep 
within;  and  let  it  grow.  Seek  wisdom  and 
understanding  with  it.  Don't  be  content 
any  longer  to  be  babies,  playthings,  dream 
ing  dolls.  Grow  up.  Learn  to  be. 
[105] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

Next:  save  your  men.  The  men  around 
you,  the  men  you  have  to  do  with,  everyone 
of  them.  Even  the  worst. 

NELLIE.  Yes,  but  how? 

WOMAN.  Let  them  know  what  women  are. 

NELLIE.  Oh,  I  see:   I  begin  to  understand. 

WOMAN.  Then,  when  the  time  comes,  marry.  Re 
fuse  to  be  married.  Don't  let  them  give 
you  away  in  darkness.  Marry  in  daylight. 
Ask:  ascertain:  don't  be  put  off  with  lies. 
And  one  thing,  above  all:  don't  marry  an 
unclean  man.  Help,  pity,  if  you  can;  but 
don't  marry  him.  Don't  foul  your  precious 
body:  it  isn't  your  own:  don't  hand  on  un 
clean  blood  to  your  children.  Remember, 
thou  shalt  do  no  murder — body  or  soul. 

NELLIE.  Oh,  but  I  could  never  think  of  marrying. 
It  seems  to  me  as  if  marriage  could  never 
look  beautiful  again. 

WOMAN.  Ask  him. 

[106! 


THE   NECESSARY    EVIL 

She  points  to  JOHN  HERON. 

NELLIE.  Oh,  Father!  .  .  . 

HERON.  My  child,  marriage  is  God's  also.  It  is 
His  sacrament.  But  the  grace  of  it  must  be 
striven  for,  attained:  like  saintliness,  like 
— like  any  other  work  of  art.  The  true 
marriages  of  the  world  do  not  drop  down 
from  Heaven,  ready  made:  they  come  in 
dream,  in  vision,  to  the  seeking  soul:  they 
call  for  sacrifice,  for  will,  for  effort:  they 
must  be  laboured  for,  if  you  want  them  here 
on  earth.  Like  religion:  like  social  order: 
like  art. 

WOMAN.  And  last:  one  last  thing  for  pity's  sake  I 
beg  you  .  .  . 

NELLIE.  Go  on.     I  will. 

WOMAN.  Reach  down  the  lily  whiteness  of  your 
gentle  hands,  and  lift  us  from  the  mire. 

NELLIE  kisses  her.  The  WOMAN  be 
comes  beautiful  like  something  sanc 
tified. 

[107] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 
And  now,  good-bye. 

She  is  about  to  put  on  her  hat,  when 
NELLIE  cries  out  in  an  agony  of 
tenderness; 

NELLIE.  Oh,  what  was  it,  what  power  from  God  was 
it,  that  drew  my  heart  to  yours?  Why 
should  I  be  chosen  for  such  a  tenderness  as 
this? 

WOMAN.  Because  of  God's  greatest  miracle  of  loveli 
ness  on  earth. 

NELLIE.  Because  of  what?    What  loveliness? 

WOMAN.  Because  of  your  innocence — your  white 
soul.  And  then  also,  you  are  my  child. 
Not  only  his:  not  only  your  mother's;  but 
mine:  everybody's:  the  world's.  Yes,  you 
shall  be  that  henceforward,  down  the  days  . . . 
And  that  is  why  you  have  had  to  hear 
this  terrible  thing. 

She  puts  on  her  hat,  mechanically,  her 
eyes  still  fixed  on  the  girl. 
I  108] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 
Good-bye.     I  shall  remember  you. 

NELLIE.  I  cannot  speak.  I  am  dumb.  I  don't 
know  how  to  name  you:  how  to  think  of 
you  .  .  . 

WOMAN.  Think  of  me  as  of  something  dead  and 
buried.  Perhaps  risen  again,  or  rising  .  .  . 
Who  knows?  Good-bye. 

She  goes  out  softly.  Shortly  after,  the 
street  door  is  heard  closing  quietly 
behind  her. 

NELLIE  wakes  from  a  kind  of  stupor, 
and  makes  a  movement  towards  the 
door. 

HERON.   Where  are  you  going,  Nellie? 

NELLIE.  Up  there.  To  my  little  room.  I  want  to 
speak  to  Someone.  It's  Someone,  I  don't 
think  I've  ever  spoken  to  before. 

HERON.   Whom? 

NELLIE.  The  Mother  of  God. 

[109] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

She  goes  out,  a  strange  new  thought  in 
her  mind. 


There  is  silence  in  the  room  for  a  short 
space.  Nothing  is  heard  but  the 
ticking  of  the  clock  in  the  corner. 
Then  FRANK  rises  from  the  arm- 
chair,  where  he  has  been  sitting  with 
his  face  buried  in  his  hands  all  this 
time. 

FRANK.    Father,  I'm  going  back  again  tonight.     I'm 
ashamed.     I  can't  stay  here,  now. 

He  goes  up  the  room,  puts  on  his  coat, 
and  gets  his  hat  and  bag. 

Til  write  to  you  tomorrow. 
HERON.  Do,  Frank. 

They  join  hands  for  a  moment.  FRANK 
goes  to  the  door,  hesitates,  and  turns; 

FRANK.   Oh,  I  feel  like  a  beast,  a  brute  beast:  all  the 
man  of  me  turned  into  a  beast. 

[no] 


THE    NECESSARY    EVIL 

HERON.  Well,  that's  as  it  should  be,  my  boy.  Yet 
even  a  beast  may  be  made  the  beginning  of 
a  man. 

FRANK.  But  what  can  I  do?  What  can  a  fellow  do, 
who  has  once  ...  A  fellow  like  me? 

HERON.  Repent.    Cleanse  your  ways.    Turn  to  God. 
FRANK  bows  his  head  and  goes  out. 

JOHN  HERON  stands  thinking.  Then 
he  goes  to  the  fireplace  and  lights  his 
pipe:  turns  up  the  room  and  looks  at 
his  wife's  portrait:  returns  to  the 
•table  and  blows  out  the  guttering 
candle.  Pauses,  irresolute;  and 
then  goes  over  to  the  piano:  sits  down 
and  relieves  his  agony  of  feeling  by 
finishing  the  Intermezzo  from  the 
point  where  he  left  off. 

On  the  very  last  note,  the  CURTAIN 
descends. 


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